More Than Just Pieces
by WriterFreak101
Summary: The 30th Hunger Games is here. Promised to be the best since the Quarter Quell, all Panem is looking forward to what's in store. But the children entered in the Games are more than just pieces. They are people. Each with their own stories to tell. Each with their own fears, desires, and hopes. Hopes to be lost when they meet their ends. May the odds be ever in their favor.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: Originally, this fic was going to be an SYOT. But then I found out that SYOTs are technically going against the rules after I got reported for them. Still, I had so many rich and developed characters for this fic. So what I decided to do was this. Rather than have the people submit them to me, I asked if I may borrow their characters. These authors were all willing to do that. I apologize for the inconvenience. **

**The credit for the Tributes goes to the amazing authors who are allowing me to use them. They will receive full credit for their characters in the next couple of chapters, when I begin the Reapings. And oh yeah, never be afraid to review. :D**

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins and any other respective owners. I'm just a fanfic writer letting my imagination unfold by telling stories set in these amazing stories. **

Prologue

Monica Fellertan felt the lights on her. She felt confident and secure. For nearly thirty years she had been doing this show. For twenty-nine years she had been covering the news of the Hunger Games. She knew by now what to expect. Behind the curtain she could hear an announcer counting down from twenty until the show started. She ordered an Avox with blue hair to hold a mirror for her while she checked to make sure her make-up was perfect. She hated the make-up department artists. They always messed up something. Either they didn't apply enough makeup to her forehead or they didn't put the right amount of lipstick on. She examined herself critically, making mental notes in her head if anything was flawed so that she could report them after the show. When she was satisfied with her examination, for once finding no flaws in the make-up she was wearing, she smiled. The make-up artist they hired for this year was actually capable of doing his job. Hopefully he kept it up.

She sharply ordered the Avox to get off the stage before the cameras trained on her. Without a moment's hesitation he did as he was told. By now the countdown had reached to eleven. She faced the left of the stage, waiting for the countdown to finish. Then she would face the crowd, and give her most brilliant smile, which had become a trademark over the past three decades. Already she could hear the crowd chanting-no- roaring her name. If she wasn't a professional interviewer, she would have allowed a chill of excitement run down her spine.

Finally the countdown reached zero. The music blared. The crowd started to rise from their seats and chant and roar her name. Turning in the direction of the crowd, she smiled brilliantly. Her teeth had been bleached and polished, they were sparkling brightly. This caused the crowd to react even more. She stood up from the orange felt-seat she sat in, and made her way to the front center of the stage. Monica waved to them. The lights were almost blinding, but she could still make out the forms of the people who were seated in the audience. People with blue, orange, green, and violet hair; people with gold, purple, orange, and white lipstick. People were wearing clothes which looked like something people during the Renaissance would have worn. There was even the occasional person who had earrings in not only their ears, but their eyebrows and noses and chins. This was the Capitol, the symbol of humanity which had risen from the ashes of barbarianism. These were the people who had become Monica's loyal fans through the years. These were the people whom Monica loved.

When the music stopped playing, the audience in the crowd sat down. Not taking her eyes off of them, Monica returned to her seat. "Ladies and gentlemen," she said, "I want to thank you all for attending the show tonight. And I want to thank all of you back home for tuning in." There was no reason to thank the audience. Most of the Capitol loved tuning in to this channel, this was the first coverage before the Reaping even started. Plus, it was also a law that everyone in the Capitol had to follow if there were a few who didn't like it. "For those of you who have forgotten, this year marks the thirtieth anniversary of the annual Hunger Games. For twenty-nine years, this wonderful Capitol has been able to watch the televised Games in which a boy and girl from each of the outlying Districts are reaped and sent into an arena in which they must fight to the death until only one remains. For twenty-nine years we have seen plenty of magnificent Victors come out of the Games. This year, the thirtieth year of the Games, promises to be extremely magnificent. At least so says the Gamemaker. And tonight, we have our _always_ very special guest with us. Please put your hands together for Delta Mavelus."

From the right side of the stage, Monica saw Delta Mavelus step out. She recognized him immediately, she had been interviewing the man for nearly twenty years. He always came back every year different from the last time. Usually it was a new hairstyle or a change of clothes or some new piercings. This year, it was all three. His hair was tied back in a ponytail and died with gold and silver and even a couple tints of red. His new pair of red studded earrings were actually sticking out from the sides of his mouth, where there never use to be any. On top of that, he was wearing a red shirt with a white collar, and his pants were sparkling red as well. The only thing that had not changed about him was his lips, which still wore the same bronze color lipstick he always wore.

After Delta finished waving to the crowd, he took a seat in the other orange felted chair beside Monica's left. They shook hands and kissed one another on the cheeks in greeting. They then waited for the crowd to settle down some before starting the interview. "The Capitol loves you Delta," Monica said.

Delta smiled and let out a light chuckle. Turning to the crowd he said, "Well, I'm glad. Because I love the Capitol just as much. It's been an honor to be the Head Gamemaker, making arenas which provide us a place to see the entertainment that the Hunger Games has provided us." The audience cheered and started clapping. Turning to Monica he said, "May I just say it's been an honor being on your show as well? I remember when I was only one of the people in the audience, I always dreamed of being on stage here with you. To think I've now been on here twenty times is truly beyond belief."

Monica smiled. "It has been an honor," she agreed. She then decided it was time to finish the greetings and get to business. "So Delta. You have been the Head Gamemaker for twenty years. What do you think about your job?"

"I absolutely adore it," Delta said. "I honestly do. It's a job I can't get enough of. Every day I wake up feeling good because I know that I'm actually doing something meaningful in my life and something which I love with a great passion. To think that my efforts are doing such a wonderful and important service to the Capitol makes me proud."

"Why do you think your job is important Delta?"

Delta smiled. "I love serving the Capitol and all of Panem. As the Head Gamemaker, I'm in charge of designing the arena and what takes place in it. And it's because of that, I think, we are able to remember what happened during this time over thirty years ago. The Hunger Games serve as a time for repentance and gratitude for the Districts that lay outside of the Capitol. They forgot that when they rebelled over thirty years ago, and as a sad result one of them was even eliminated off the face of Panem. But it was necessary, just as it is necessary to have the Hunger Games. To remind the Districts just how much they owe us. For not only forgiving them when they betrayed, but providing them with everything they have today. Without us, they would still be lawless and confused. Probably scratching sticks together trying to heat their caves too."

"That is true," agreed Monica, "the other Districts can be so primitive, especially District Twelve." The audience clapped. "So, Delta, you've been doing this for thirty years now. I remember you designed that magnificent course for the First Quarter Quell. Which is without a doubt your best work and greatest accomplishment in my opinion."

"Thank you, I'm glad you think so."

"This is the thirtieth Hunger Games. Do you think it will be ever defeat the Quarter Quell in terms of popularity or magnificence or wonder?"

Delta smiled. "Well, I would hope so. I'll admit, even I have trouble besting my own skill. Thirty years is a significant number. One, that I think, should be greatly remembered. While I doubt anything will ever come close to the First Quarter Quell, perhaps I'll be able to match it this year." The crowd whistled and clapped.

"I wish you the best of luck Delta."

"Thank you Monica, I deeply appreciate it."

"Are you willing to give us any spoilers as to what will happen in the Arena?"

"I'm afraid not Monica. I think the surprise will add to the charm for this year's Hunger Games." The audience let out disappointed groans. Delta shrugged his shoulder in reluctance. It was clear to the audience that he was reluctant, but he couldn't give anything away. "I will promise you this though, you are all going to love it."

"We will be looking forward to it," Monica said. "But I'm afraid that's all the time we have. Let's give another round of applause for Delta Mavelus." The crowd did enthusiastically, even though they were still slightly mad that they weren't getting any spoilers. When they finished, Monica said, "Thanks again for tuning in. Tune in tomorrow evening. Same time, same channel. Have a Happy Hungry Games! May the odds be ever in your favor!"


	2. Chapter 1: The Escorts

Chapter One

The Escorts

"Are you serious!" Lettie Flaunt whined as she held up the piece of paper with her District Escort assignment on it. She had a sharp frown and a disgusted expression on her face. All the other District Escorts turned and looked at her, curious about why she was upset. Lettie turned to others and exclaimed, "I just got the most disgusting District to be Escort to ever!"

Apollo Lyre walked up Lettie. He was a tan skinned Escort, one of the few who opted not to follow the newest trend of tattooing their skins with ink. Instead, he wore a bright red wig and had his eyelashes dyed a fiery orange. Ever since everyone had seen Delta Mavelus last night, Apollo was trying to match the style without copying Delta too much, preferring to add some originality. He tried to glance at Lettie's District Assignment paper. Lettie only pulled it close to her to her breast to hide it. She then hid her face behind her hand in embarrassment. "Who did you get?" Apollo asked. "Is it District Twelve?"

Lettie removed her hand. "Don't make fun of me Apollo! Yes, I did get District Twelve. For shame! For shame! I would have rather had District Two or District One like I did last year. No! I'm stuck with the coal mining District. Oh, it's a humiliation I can't bear! Would anyone like to trade?"

"Shut up and accept it Lettie," a woman Escort named Pauletta Tang said. She was a short woman with blue hair and eyes that slanted slightly upwards. Her skin was the color of a rainbow. Each of her lashes was dyed a color of the rainbow as well. "We all have to take the Coal Mining District at some point in our careers. I was actually surprised you lasted four years without having to deal with them."

"She only got District Twelve this year because she forgot to get District One in on time for their interviews last year," said Bacchus Plurius in a snooty tone. He was a male Escort with blue dyed skin and violet hair. He wore a sparkling violet jacket. He looked like a glittering blueberry that had been pressed between somebody's fingers. "Be sure you get District Twelve to their Interviews on time this year and perhaps you'll be bumped back up to a more decent District. Who knows? Maybe in three years you will be handling District One again."

"What District did you get Apollo?" Pauletta asked.

"I got District Six this year. Who did you get?"

"District Three."

"I got District Four," bragged Bacchus.

"Might want to get a makeover before you go there," Lettie said critically, hoping to get the negative spotlight off of her.

"What's wrong with my look?"

"You look as though someone dumped sparkling grape juice on you."

"Please, he looks more like someone who dumped sparkling blueberry juice on him," said Pauletta.

Bacchus sniffed, raising his nose in the air. Pointing to his jacket he said, "This is a Valenti Original!"

"Valenti is so last year Bacchus," Lettie said. "Come on, everyone knows it's Floras labels that are in style."

"Floras will never be able to compete. I will have you know, I have a friend whose cousin's dad's grandson works for the Valenti line, and he said they sold more clothes than the Floras line did last year. Not to mention, this was custom made for me by Valenti himself. I will be dead before I throw it away."

"You should have donated it. It's hideous. It's something that only people of District Twelve would wear, if it's lucky."

"Will you all shut up already?" asked another Escort, a man named Etrusca. "For the love of diamonds shut up. I all ready got a headache I don't need you four squabbling and making it worse!"

"Which ex-wife is it this time Etrusca?" Pauletta ask. "You're never this cranky unless one of your ex-wives is hastling you."

"I bet it's ex-wife number four," said Bacchus.

"Which one is that?" Apollo asked. "I lost track after the third."

"It's that Atlanta girl. Neon pink hair, round face, the one who dumped him for Simeus Maximus. I actually heard that Atlanta and Simeas are getting a divorce."

"You have to message me the details when you get the chance!" Lettie exclaimed in excitement, not minding gossip if it wasn't about her.

"I'll have my Avox send it you once we are done here."

"Is nothing in my life private?" Etrusca asked.

"You gave up private when you first became an Escort. Face it, once you're an Escort, your life will always be in the spotlight," Pauletta said.

Apollo leaned in and whispered in Etrusca's ear. "I suggest if you want to avoid the spotlight, you might want to settle down. Once you find a girl and marry her for _more _than a year, the people tend to lose interest in you. At least until you and your wife have a kid and then you end up in another divorce."

"I heard he can't afford another divorce. His fifth ex-wife's alimony is about the same as his first and second ex-wifes' put together," Bacchus said.

Etrusca rolled his eyes. "Get your facts straight Bacchus, it's my _sixth _ex-wife."

"Which one is that?" asked Apollo.

"Diana Movita. Bright yellow dyed hair, red skin, golden dyed eyelashes," said Bacchus.

Before another argument could break out between the Escorts, a female Peacekeeper with dark skin and bright red hair and red eyelashes entered the room where the Escorts were getting their District assignments. "Ladies, gentlemen," she said, "your trains will be arriving in forty minutes. My company and I are to escort you to the stations."

"Thank the precious stones! Get me out of this place!' exclaimed Etrusca in relief, walking out the door in seconds.

"I could have sworn that he only had six ex-wives," Bacchus said. As soon he said this, Pauletta started laughing. Turning to her, he asked, "What?"

Pauletta clicked a couple of buttons on her phone. "Clearly you haven't read Etrusca's latest post."

"What! That's impossible! I know all about Etrusca. I have my sources."

"Looks like your sources need to be updated."

"Why?"

"Because they forgot to tell you that Etrusca is divorcing his current wife."

"Who's she?"

"Exactly. Nobody knows yet. Apparently they've been secretly married for only a day."

"Text me the details!" Lettie exclaimed as she and Apollo filed out the door.

"In your dreams," Pauletta muttered.


	3. Chapter 2: A Stylist and His Team

**AN: ****I'll be mentioning some things some of you may not understand. I was curious as to what was going on in the world outside of Panem. So this is my take on what the other countries are like. **

**Gallicia- (where modern day France is, named after it what use to be called before becoming France)**

Chapter Two

A Stylist and His Team

"Ziva!" Monita exclaimed happily as one of her friends and coworkers stepped through the door of the apartment that the Stylist Team was renting.

Ziva, who had entered with an Avox with silver-gray dyed hair following behind her carrying her belongings, smiled when she saw her friend. She opened her arms wide and embraced her lifelong friend and coworker. They then kissed each other on the cheek in greeting. "Oh Monita darling, it's been so long since you and I have last spoken with each other! Gosh, I think it was the last Hunger Games wasn't it?"

"Oh diamonds yes!" exclaimed Monita. She looked her friend up and down. "I _love_ the new skin color," she said in admiration, taking in the site of her friend's neon pink skin with gold specks beneath her eyes.

"Très magnifique, non?" Ziva asked in delight. She turned to her Avox and said, "Go put my bags in my bedroom. It'll be down the western hall and will be the second room on the left." The Avox did as he was told. She then returned to the subject that she and Monita were discussing. "I got my new color while I was away on vacation in Gallicia."

"Ooh. Magnifique indeed! How was it?"

"It was fabulous! I met this most fantastique guy there and he and I are about to celebrate our six month anniversary. We'll be meeting up tomorrow. He's flying in from Gallicia. His family are big political figures in that country. So he has free diplomatic immunity within the Capitol."

"You have to introduce him to me sometime."

"If you want you can meet him after the Games are over. You're going to love him. His accent is _so_ adorable!"

"Well, I'm glad you think so," said a man's voice as he entered the apartment.

Ziva smiled. Without looking behind her she said, "Sadly I wasn't talking about you."

"Well then, so you didn't miss me?"

Ziva turned around. "Of course I missed you Kaylo!" she exclaimed.

"Can I have a greeting then?"

Both Ziva and Monita laughed. "Of course," Monita said. Then together, she and Ziva exclaimed, "Kaylo!" They then ran up to him and hugged him, placing quick pecks on his cheeks.

"That's better," Kaylo said. "Monita, Ziva I missed you so much! I haven't spoken with either of you in a couple of weeks. I was afraid that you had forgotten my number."

"How could I have ever forgotten your number Kaylo!" Ziva exclaimed.

Monita stood back and took in the sight of her friend. "Oh my emeralds Kaylo! Have you been working out?" She asked this as she began to rub her hands across his sculpted arm muscles. "Last time I saw you, you were still slightly gangly."

"I just started working out a few months ago. Six days a week. I made sure to visit the tanning salon every two days too. Don't I look fabulous?"

"Magnifique," Ziva said. "If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you had come from District Four."

Kaylo laughed. "Thanks darling," he said. "So, speaking of Districts, does anyone know which District we will be the prep team for? Lucentio refused to tell me. Said he wanted to make it a surprise."

"That's the exact same thing he told me!" Ziva said. "I swear, the next time I see him I'm going to pluck out every single one of those neon violet eyebrows. I'll make sure it hurts too."

"Perhaps I should come back at a different time then."

The three Prep Team members turned and saw the man who would be leading them enter the apartment. He had been leading the Team for nearly four years, and he had proven to be a great leader. He was a tall man with thick green dyed hair. His eyebrows were dyed a neon purple. His skin was the color of a swan's. When you looked at him, you could tell he was a man of passion. He loved to do what he did. Designing was the thing he was born to do. Since he had become the leader of their team (their old one had dyed because of cocanide overdose) they had created clothes that had made the Capitol stare in awe. It was partly because of his clothes and the Prep Team's makeup that District Nine won last year.

Lucentio smiled. "Well come on guys. I know you can't stay mad at me for ever. Where's my greeting?"

"Tell us who we're going to be designing and prepping for, and then I'll give you a Monita hug," Monia teased, trying her best to still sound mad but was failing by the second. Her lips were all ready starting to curl upwards in a smile.

"Come on," Lucentio begged, holding his arms wide. "Just one Monita hug, please?" He then turned to Ziva. "I could use a hug from you too girl. I haven't seen you since the Games last year."

Kaylo chuckled. "You weren't lying when you said that I was the only one on the Team that you've been keeping in touch with Ziva."

"Yet you didn't believe me until now," Ziva said, a huge smile on her face as she went up to Lucentio and hugged him. "Voíla!"

Smiling, Lucentio said, "Merci." He looked at Monita. "Now come on Monita. Your turn. I promise to tell once you give me a Monita hug." He held his arms out wider.

She couldn't resist any more. "Oh all right Lucentio you win," she said with a laugh. They then gave each other great hugs. When they pulled away, Monita said, "Now, no more secrets. Tell us who we are going to be designing for!"

"We did such a magnifique job with District Nine I bet we are getting a good District this year," said Ziva.

Lucentio chuckled. "True Ziva." He held up a piece of paper, the one which told their District assignment on it. Monita tried to reach for it and grab it, but he quickly pulled it away from her.

Monita growled in frustration. "Come on Lucentio! You promised!" she whined.

He chuckled. "I know I did, just be patient Monita."

"Come on Lucentio. You should know by now patience was never Monita's strongest virtues," Kaylo laughed.

"Take a few guesses first."

"District Nine?" Ziva asked.

"Nope. Try again."

"District Seven?"

"A little warmer, but no."

"District Six?" asked Kaylo.

"Nope. A little higher."

"District Four!" exclaimed Monita, about to let out a scream that sounded like an excited little girl's.

"Nope."

Everyone's mouths dropped. "Come on Lucentio. Just tell us. Please?" Monita pleaded.

Lucentio smiled and handed her the paper. "Take a look for yourself Monita. What does it say?"

Monita read over the paper. She nodded a couple of times. Kaylo and Ziva tried to get a better look, but she only brushed them aside. When she finally the section that talked about which District they were going to be working for. Her mouth dropped completely. It dropped so far, it seemed almost inhumanly possible. "Oh. My. Emeralds!" she said in a voice just above a whisper.

"What?" Kaylo asked, leaning in.

"No wait Kaylo don't!" Ziva exclaimed.

It was too late though. Monita let out a scream so ear piercing that the glass objects in the room started to vibrate. Kaylo started vibrating as well, he was so close. The sound of her scream made him immobile. But Ziva and Lucentio managed to put their hands over their ears and block out the excited scream.

When Monita finished, she handed the paper to Kaylo. "I can't believe we got District Two this year!" she exclaimed. "I have to go call my friends. They're going to be _so _envious." Before anyone could stop her she took off running down the western hall in the direction of her room, screaming in delight still.

Kaylo stood there, still immobile. Ziva walked over and took the paper from him. Her mouth dropped. A scream was about to escape, but she managed to get it under control. Looking over at Lucentio she said jokingly, "You're a jerk Lucentio!" She laughed joyously. "Why didn't you tell us we were going to get District Two?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Lucentio answered.

"This is amazing!" Ziva exclaimed. She turned to Kaylo. "Kaylo, isn't this amazing?" There was no response. "Kaylo?" she said again, more firmly but not overly loud. When he didn't respond, she shouted, "Kaylo!" He instantly shook his head and turned and face her. "Kaylo, don't you think this is amazing? We got District Two!"

"Sorry, I think Monita blew out my ear drum. I'll need to go get my ear checked out at the Hospital Building tomorrow before the Tributes start coming in."

"Better do it tonight," Lucentio said. "We are going to need full force in order to get this year's costumes absolutely perfect. That means little time for breaks. I hope you all are using the latest caffeine supplements. You won't be sleeping much."

"Why the sudden crackdown Lucentio?" Ziva asked. "Usually things are more slack. Last year we were relaxed, and look what happened. The Tribute for District Nine won."

"We can't afford to be relaxed this year. The Thirtieth Hunger Games is the biggest thing the Capitol is talking about since the First Quell. To mark the occasion, some of the best Stylists and Teams in the Capitol are being called in order to make it just that."

"What teams will there be?"

"Antonio's team will be doing District One. Lineta's team will be doing District Four. Othello will be doing District Six. I even heard that the newbie Team that got stuck doing District Twelve is going to be good. Our competition is going to be fierce."

"This year could never compare to the First Quell,"

"Maybe not. But we are all under orders by Snow himself in order to make this one of the most memorable Games since the Quell. In order to do that, we need to go all out. Give it more than one hundred percent. So Kaylo, go schedule an important now, use your connections if you have to. Come back as soon as your done. If I find out you went out with a model I'm going to make sure you never get another date with a model as long as you live. Ziva, you're coming with me to the studio in order to start designing. I'm going to go grab Monita right now. Don't just stand there, go!" With that he started making his way down the western hallway.

"Somebody's on the edge," said Kaylo as he pulled out his phone and started punching in numbers to the Hospital Center.

"No kidding," Ziva said in agreement. "I never thought I would see the day when the pressure of styling would get to Lucentio. Usually he's so laid back."

"Maybe it'll wear off soon."

"I hope so. I want to meet up with Pierre tomorrow. And if I miss it because of this, I may just have to wring Lucentio's neck."


	4. Chapter 3: The Reaping of District One

**AN: Here we are people. This is a list of all the original characters I borrowed from various authors. I have the Tributes first, and in parhentices are the people whom I borrowed them from. Reminder: This is not an SYOT! These characters belonged to others, whom I asked if I may borrow to use in this fic. Understand? Ok, good. :)**

District 1 Male- Jett Tyson (Jodiee)

District 1 Female- Elina Celest (THGfangirl4life)

District 2 Male- Mason Ryker (Hutsune)

District 2 Female- Avery Nicholette (THGfangirl4life)

District 3 Male- Zeke Razy (OwlMist)

District 3 Female- Ada Brennan (Jodiee)

District 4 Male- Mihailo Sullivan (LadyIfe)

District 4 Female- Kaye Bennett (Hutsune)

District 5 Male- Aden North (Nimtolien Justice)

District 5 Female- Allura Swan (GuardianAngel1234)

District 6 Male- Tom Morgan (StarsofOz)

District 6 Female- June Erbe (beccapaige)

District 7 Male- Saveuir Estante (Secretsx17)

District 7 Female- Venus Lance (OwlMist)

District 8 Male- Coin Darren (captindonivan)

District 8 Female- Liv Lavender (Reblog Lady)

District 9 Male- Dagan Reinard (lemonsmania)

District 9 Female- Ivy Bloom (Vyscaria)

District 10 Male- Kai Delloom (Chi-Chiwawa)

District 10 Female- Beriana Rhav (Ariyah)

District 11 Male- Dante Lupin (Latina shewolf)

District 11 Female- Sadilito Rivers (Chi-Chiwawa)

District 12 Male- Gabe Wilcox (Ariyah)

District 12 Female- Gardenia Ice (Reblog Lady)

Chapter Three

The Reaping of District One

"You know you should probably smile at least somewhat," Katelin Con said as she had her friend sit down in a chair in front of the mirror resting on her dresser. Her friend, Elina Celest, didn't say anything. She just sat there with a face devoid of any facial expression. Katelin took out a hairband from her dresser and gently parted her friend's wavy blond hair so that she could put the hairband in. "I like it when you smile after all."

Elina sniffed, her expression finally taking on a sliver of what could possibly be called agitation. "I'll smile when I'm in the Hunger Games."

Katelin fasted the hairband in her friend's hair. "Come on Elina. You can't still be planning this?"

"I made a promise. I swore that when I was strong enough, I would go into the Games. I vowed on my life, and on my family's graves. I intend to keep those vows."

"I know you're mad, Elina. But I don't think that this is the best way to honor your family. I'm sure there are other ways. Perhaps after school is finished you can open a hospital in their memory. Your mother was always a good nurse. She would have been proud if you did-"

"Don't talk me out of this Katelin!" Elina snapped harshly. She stood up and frowned fiercely at her friend. "Don't you dare talk me out of this. I made my decision. And don't you even _dare _tell me how or how not I should honor my family. They weren't your family. You don't know anything about them besides what I told you!"

The hurt in Katelin's eyes was plainly visible. Immediately, Elina thought about taking back what she said. She had been kind of harsh. It wasn't like it was Katelin's fault her whole life crumbled. She wasn't the one who had selected her brother's name to be in the Games. She wasn't the one who her brother had fought in order to secure a position as the boy tribute for District One back in the twenty-seventh Hunger Games. She wasn't the one who had actually killed her brother when he was in the final three and the battle had come down between him and two other kids: a boy from District Four and a girl from District Eleven. The District Four boy had dissolved their alliance, and then killed her brother while her brother's back was turned. The boy from District Four then went on to kill the girl from District Eleven. Ever since that day, Elina's life had been one disaster after another. Her mother had committed suicide, her father overdosed himself on morphlin, killing him as well. All of this happened because her brother was killed and the boy from District Four had won. None of it was Katelin's fault.

Yet here she was, snapping at the one friend she had in the world, the one whose family had taken her in after the death of her family. The guilt rolled around inside her heart like an angry sea. Mostly because this was not the first time she had ever done this to Katelin. In fact, she had lost track of how many times.

Elina sighed and buried her face in her hands. "I'm sorry," she said to Katelin after she took a breather. "I'm sorry Katelin. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

Katelin finished putting the hairband in Elina's hair. She smiled weakly. "It's alright Elina. I forgive you. It's just...I wish that you wouldn't harbor all the pain inside. We have to forgive people in order to keep misery and depression from taking over."

One could tell that Katelin had lived a sheltered life. She had been raised properly. Her parents were kind and decent, and she had become the same. She wasn't like many people in District One. She believed that it was always possible to do the right thing, no matter the situation. She still believed in a day when people could unite as one and be good to each other, no matter what.

Elina knew that Katelin would be crushed if she ever had to enter the real world.

Getting out of the chair, Elina stood and examined herself in the mirror. She was wearing a dark red dress. She also wore red lipstick. She turned to Katelin, who was wearing only a simple white dress with a white corsage around her wrist. Nothing special really when you first looked at it. Reds and whites were quite common for the people of District One to wear. They were Panem's national colors after all. They appeared on every banner, flag, and even on the Capitol's official seal.

Elina knew there was a deeper reason to why she was wearing red though. Red was the mood she was in. She was angry, bitter, and outraged. She wanted blood. She wanted somebody to pay for the death of her brother. She wanted someone to suffer for the death of her family. And there was one other reason as well. There was still a need for a connection to her family. Ever since they had died, she had felt separated from them. After their deaths, they just seemed to fade from the world. People had tried suggesting that things would be better in the end. Someday, all the pain and suffering would cease, and there would come a time when loved ones would be reunited. She didn't believe it though. The likelihood of anything like it was improbable. Which made her all the more bitter.

That was the reason why she wanted to be in the Games this year. She wanted to avenge her brother, avenge her whole family, for what the Capitol had done to them. Perhaps if she won the Games, she would still feel connected to them. Maybe they would be proud of her.

Maybe it would feel like they were still actually there, encouraging her in life.

"Katelin! Elina!" Katelin's mother called from the bottom of their steps. "Time to come on down. We need to go the Square! It's already one o' clock and you already know it takes about thirty minutes to get there, another ten to actually sign in."

"Coming Mom!" Katelin called. She turned to Elina and looked at her. There was a worried expression on her face. "Are you ready?"

"I think you did a good job on my hair. The dress looks good too."

"No, I mean, are you ready for today? You said you were planning on volunteering. Are you sure you want to do that?"

"I'm sure."

"I just don't want to lose you."

"Trust me, you're not going to lose me in the Games."

"Good."

In her thoughts Elina added, _Because you lost me the moment my brother was lost_.

.

"You're nuts, Jett! Completely nuts!" Flash exclaimed.

"Do you realize how crazy that idea is?" asked another one of Jett's friends, a boy named Crafter, said.

"You'll die if you decide to volunteer for the Games this year. You only just started training last year. Many of the Tributes have been training for the moment they could be in the Games for years!"

"It's suicide!"

Jett shrugged as he and his friends reached the section where the thirteen-year-old boys were suppose to be. All around them, people were starting to gather. Those who weren't eligible to be entered in the Reaping were gathered along the sides. Camera crews were gathering, buzzing around like bees on a spot dripping with honey. Behind them, people from District One were still entering the Square. Many of the kids were still signing in. Getting their blood tested to make sure that they were who they claimed they were. Then being herded in the center of the Square in the roped off section. First dividing them by gender, boys on the left and girls on the right. Then dividing them by ages. The youngest towards the rear, and oldest to front. Jett frowned. He wished he was towards the front. If he was, he would have a better chance at being able to volunteer. All he had to do was climb onto the stage and then proclaim that he was going to volunteer as Tribute. From what he had seen from the Games when they advertised, each District had its own way of handling volunteers. In District Two, they made any who wished to be selected to go to the Games duel each other until one was still left standing alive. He remembered that in District Five, any volunteers needed to answer trivia about past Games, and the one who got the highest score would go. But in District One, it was a first come, first serve basis. The one who proclaimed they were going to volunteer first was the one going to be the Tribute. This way, it prevented bloodshed, and it also saved time and energy. It was easy too.

Turning away from the front of the crowd, Jett faced his friends. "Come on guys," he said. "You got to stop worrying so much. I know I'm going to do very well in the Games. You've seen me train. And last time I checked, I'm actually the best in our class."

"The best in our class maybe," said Flash. "That doesn't mean you're going to be the best out of all the Tributes, assuming you manage to volunteer first."

"If you volunteer for this year, Jett, you're going to be doomed," Crafter added.

"You guys sound like my Dad."

"Well, your Dad is smart," said Flash. "Which I think you're lacking of."

"Knowledge does not win the Games," said Jett. "All you need is to be the best."

"Yeah, but I bet it helps," Flash muttered.

Jett rolled his eyes. Flash and Crafter were not the first ones to tell him that he wasn't ready. That morning when he announced he was going to be volunteering as Tribute for District One, his Dad had told him the same. Not only did his Dad tell him that, but his Pre-Mentor as well. 'Patience, Jett,' they had both said, 'one day, you will be ready to win the Games. But not today. Wait a few more years. Get a few more skills. Perhaps then you can volunteer to go."

_Let them believe whatever they want_, he thought. _You'll prove them wrong_. _After all_, _you were _born _to win the Games_. _You've trained for this moment for nearly a year_,_ you're a favorite of the District_, _and __you even have destiny on your side_. _You were meant to do this_.

A few more minutes passed and soon the Anthem started to play. As it did, Jett looked towards the crowd of people outside of the roped-off section that the eligible children were all gathered in. He saw that a few Peacekeepers were still leading kids ages twelve to eighteen into the roped-off area. They were also leading the adults and the children who were too young to enter into the group outside the perimeter. His eyes scanned the crowd, wondering if he could spot his parents. He didn't think he would, they were short and stocky, just as he was, perfectly easy to miss in the growing crowd. Surprisingly, he did spot them. They were standing beside the families of his friends and classmates at the District One Tribute Training Academy. He spotted his Dad, who was looking in Jett's direction in earnest. It was clear that he did not approve of what Jett wanted to do. And he was going to be looking there every couple of minutes, as if doing this would actually convince Jett to decide not to volunteer. He had also spotted his Mom, who was standing with her arm wrapped in his Dad's. She was looking in his direction, except not in a concerned and disapproving way. She was actually looking at him with encouragement and approval. This gave him confidence. He knew his mother would support him. She always did whenever it came to these sort of things. She wanted to see him win the Games as well. She believed he was ready too. 'If you enter the Games this year, I just know you're going to win. Destiny is on your side. I can feel it.'

Jett could feel it too.

The Anthem finished playing, and Jett's eyes peeled away from his parents and in the direction of the temporary stage that had been set up before the Justice Building of District One. The official banner of Panem hung from the clock tower of the Justice Buildings. Camera crews trained in on the crowd, recording everything. On the wooden stage, Jett saw a podium, a table with two glass bowls on it, one that had the paper slips with boys' names on it, and the other containing the girls'. To the right of the stage from stood six chairs. One for District One's Escort which the Capitol sent to choose the names, one for the Mayor of District One, and the final four were for the past Victors of the Hunger Games who had come from District One.

Just as his eyes fell on them, Jett saw the occupants of those chairs step onto the stage. The first one to climb the steps which were carved along the sides was the Capitol's Escort for District One. He was a man with skin the color of tiger orange. His hair was braided back, and there a couple of shell-made beads on the end of each braid. He wore an expensive-looking black suit with a tie that had orange rose patterns on them. It was a different Escort than the one that the Capitol had been sending for the past three years. Jett recognized the Escort as Remus Harrison, who had been the Escort for District Five for nearly six years. The change in Escorts could have only been because of what Lettie Flaunt, the former District One Escort, had done. Last year, the District One Tributes weren't on time for their interviews. Lettie must had been reassigned to a different District to teach her a lesson.

After him came the Mayor of District One, Mayor Delgado. She was a stern woman with bags under her eyes, as if she hadn't slept in weeks. Following her were the four past Victors of District One. They all took a seat except for Mayor Delgado, who walked up to the podium. Despite her exhausted appearance, she still managed to smile. "Welcome everyone," she said. "Happy Hunger Games. I ask that you all remain silent as I retell the history of Panem and the Games, how the Games came to be, and why we do it."

The retelling was long and boring. Jett always tuned it out. He already knew the story anyway. It was long and kind of pointless, everyone knew it. Why bother telling it over and over again?

Finally, Mayor Delgado finished. "Now," she said, "I will introduce you all to the past Victors of District One."

The first one she introduced was Hope Urthy. She was a tall woman in her early thirties. She had won the sixth Hunger Games when she was eighteen years old, becoming District One's first Victor. After her came Lapis Onar, the first-ever boy Victor of District One, and the winner of the eighteenth Hunger Games. He took such a fancy to the Capitol style that he actually had his whole body tattooed in ink that was the color of lapis luzuli, the name of the gem that he was named after. After Lapis Onar came Sparkle Madrine. She was the winner of the twenty-first Hunger Games. She was a great fighter. She had been the first girl to win because she was a Career. From the beginning, she expressed great prowess with a sword. And it was because of this skill, coupled with her skills in stealth, which had helped her win. She had defeated her fellow Tribute when they were in the final two in an epic sword duel in which she had not only severed the boy's leg, but had walloped his head as well.

But there was one who was even better in Jett's eyes. One so great, he practically worshiped him.

The last Victor of District One was Crete Townsend. He was a short, stocky man in his early twenties. He had heterochromica eyes, one eye was green and the other was a pale blue. He had won the twenty-fifth Hunger Games, better known as the First Quarter Quell. It was that year's Games which the Districts got to elect who their Tributes would be. During that year, there had been many epic fighters. Crete Townsend was one of them. He proved to be excellent in archery, and had even earned the nickname "Apollo," the Greek god whose skills in archery were said to be matched only by his Greek goddess twin sister Artemis.

Crete "Apollo" Townsend was also Jett's uncle.

He was not much older than Jett, only by seven years. Crete was actually Jett's mother's kid brother, for he had been born nearly fifteen years after her. After Jett's uncle had won the Hunger Games, it had convinced his mother that he was destined to do the same, especially because he did look a lot his Uncle. They had the same straight dark hair, short and stocky build, and they both had heterochromica eyes.

And Jett believed, just like his Mom did, that he was meant to be a Victor of District One like his Uncle. A Victor so great, perhaps he would earn a god's nickname like his Uncle did.

Once Mayor Delgado had finished introducing the Victors, she then turned the Podium over to Remus Harrison. When he reached the podium he smiled brilliant white teeth, teeth that could only had been that white because of bleach and other chemicals. "Hello District One!" he said excitedly. "It's been a great honor to be here. As protocol says, I will choose our two Tributes from the bowls. If there is anyone who wants to volunteer, they have thirty seconds to speak up. And it happens on a first come, first serve basis. The first person who calls it will be the volunteer Tribute and will replace the one who was drawn. If there is a draw between two volunteers, or if the one whose name was drawn would like the position as well as the one who wants to volunteer, then there will be a duel for the spot."

Jett hoped he wouldn't have to duel someone for the spot. It wasn't because he was afraid he would lose, but because he wanted to be out of District One and in the Capitol as soon as possible. And, he wanted to start talking strategy with his Uncle. He had been dreaming about that moment his whole life. When he could finally take advice from his Uncle. More than that really. It would be the first time he ever really spoke with Uncle. He had taken on to living a life of seclusion after the Games. He didn't even keep in touch with Jett's mother.

"We will start off with the ladies first," Remus said.

The whole audience drew their breath as Remus walked over to the bowl with slips of paper with the girls' names in it. He put his hand in and shuffled through them a bit. Then chose one. He walked back to the podium, unfolded it and smoothed it so he could read it. Then he read the name of the girl who had been selected.

"Dazzle Fletcher."

Everyone turned in the direction of the girls. From where he stood, Jett could see the twelve-year-olds starting to whisper amongst themselves. Some were shuffling aside. That's when Jett saw a little girl with red hair and freckles make her way towards the stage. He could tell that someone was going to volunteer for her. From the look of her, she didn't seem like the kind of girl who was even in an Academy. It was only a matter of seconds and someone would...

"I volunteer!"

Just as he was thinking about it, Jett watched as a sixteen-year-old girl stepped up to the stage. She was up on the stage in seconds. "I volunteer as Tribute."

"What's your name darling?" Remus asked.

"Elina Celest."

"Does Dazzle want to-?"

"No she doesn't," snapped Elina. "Come on let's get this over with."

"Somebody's cranky," Remus muttered to the crowd. "Ah well. I will now move on to the Boys."

Jett prepared himself. Carefully he watched as Remus walked over to the table and put his hand in the bowl with the Boy's names in it. Once he had shuffled his hand a bit in the jar, he pulled out a name. He walked back to the podium. Once he finished unfolding and smoothing it, he read the name.

"Compact Portix."

.

The next thing Elina heard after Remus had announced the boy whose name had been chosen was a voice screaming, "I volunteer! I volunteer!" Her eyes turned in the direction of the boys crowd. She managed to keep her expression emotionless, but inside she was quite surprised. The voice who had started screaming that they were going to volunteer was towards the back of the crowd. Not all the way back, but pretty close, where the thirteen-year-olds had been gathered. _Strange_, she thought, _usually it's the older kids who manage to volunteer first_. _Mostly because they trained for that moment their whole lives_. _Whoever that younger kid is, he must be either pretty brave or pretty stupid_.

She decided to go with the latter option when she saw the boy who was screaming that he wanted to volunteer. He was a thirteen-year-old, just as she had expected. He had straight dark hair that was kind of shaggy. One of his eyes was pale blue, and the other was green. The boy was short and stocky, but had a good build considering how old he was, and he definitely did look more intimidating than most boys his age. She figured he would have made a pretty powerful Tribute if he waited a few years. Now though, she just thought he was stupid. The kid must have rocks in his head serving as his brain if he honestly thought that he could enter the Games now and possibly survive.

_Then again_, she thought, _perhaps it's a good thing he is stupid_. _He'll be easier to kill off_. _All you'll have to do is gut him behind his back when he isn't looking and then there will be one less in the competition_.

The boy was still screaming he was volunteering even as he climbed the stage. His screams were really starting to get Elina's nerves. _He had better not do that on the train_, she thought. _If he does_, _I'll make sure he is the first one to die_. _I don't care if he is a Career or not, his skills aren't worth my nerves getting annoyed by_.

When Remus finally got the boy to stop screaming, he asked, "So kid, what's your name?"

"Jett Tyson. I volunteer as Boy Tribute for District One."

"Tell us something we don't know already," muttered Elina under her breath, not loud enough for anyone to hear.

Remus turned to the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, let's give a round of applause to Jett Tyson, our volunteer Tribute for District One." The audience clapped, though you could tell by the tone they were only clapping because they had to. Elina didn't blame them. None of them looked thrilled at the thought that a thirteen-year-old was going to be their Tribute. They wanted somebody strong, vicious, and older. They wanted someone who actually looked like they could win. And no doubt, they probably wanted someone who wasn't so annoying.

_Let that play a hand in your strategy then_, Elina thought. _Be the less annoying of the Tributes. The others will want to have you as an ally_ _if you show them you have skills_. _You'll also win popularity from the Capitol because you fit the image they want, an expressionless, emotionless killer_. _And when you're in the Arena, you can kill Jett off to insure that you won't lose any Sponsors_. _Who knows_, _maybe a Sponsor will be so grateful they'll send you something as payment_.

The plan seemed perfect to her.

After they applauded for Jett, Remus then asked them to applaud for her. Elina stood there, still emotionless. This seemed to make her all the more loved. Clearly she fit the image that they wanted. Someone who was serious about the Games, who was determined to come back. Not some arrogant moron who thought that he was the best because he had been trained by an Academy for only a year.

After the audience's applause, Remus made Elina and Jett shake hands. She would have rather bashed her head with a rock open first, but she did it nonetheless. If only so she could keep her act going. Mayor Delgado then took over and read the Treaty of Treason. Once she finished, the Anthem started to play.

After three long years, Elina was finally going to the Games. She was going to get her chance to win for her brother. To reestablish the connection between her and her brother and family.

The thought made her so joyous, it actually almost got her to smile. Only _almost_ though.


	5. Chapter 4: Mason and Avery

Chapter Four

Mason and Avery

Mason punched the red punching bag in front of him. The bag was chained to a heavy, metal piece of equipment and his punch caused the heavy equipment to rattle. He smiled, pleased at what his punch could do, especially because he had punched with his left hand, the weaker of his hands. He then quickly followed it up with another punch with his right hand. The metal piece of equipment moaned. Again, he was pleased with what he could do. He followed the punch with a couple more from his right hand, then a few more from his left, then right, then left, then right again. Then he did a combination of both, followed by another combo, then another, and another. This went on for three minutes, and by the end, only one droplet of sweat rolled down his forehead.

"Time!" his father shouted after he finished a combo. "Two minutes is up Mason."

Mason stopped turned to his father, quickly wiping the droplet of sweat away from his face. He had been doing this routine for nearly ten minutes now. Sweat was starting to roll more loosely down his head. Grinning from ear to ear, he asked, "How well did I do? I lost track after the fortieth punch."

"One hundred punches in two minutes," his father said. There was an impressed look on his face. He looked at his stop watch again, then placed it on his clipboard. He took out a pen, and made notes. "It took you fourteen years, but you can now do thirty more than what I could do at your age."

Proud of himself, Mason added, "And I didn't even break a sweat."

His father raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Mason, what have I told you about being honest with me, and with yourself?"

Mason groaned. "I remember Dad. You don't need to give the lecture again."

"I wouldn't have to give the lecture if you just listened to it."

Rolling his eyes, Mason walked over to a metal bench that stood against the right wall of his and his Dad's private gymnasium. There he found a towel and a red thermal water bottle. He unplugged the bottle and quickly took a couple of swigs of water before plugging it again and setting it on the bench. He decided not to use the towel yet, he had not even really started to sweat. Only a few drops. No reason to use the towel. His Father stood beside him, giving him the same lecture that seemed to Mason his Father gave every few days. He could say it word for word by now. "Mason, you have to learn to acknowledge your weaknesses. A good fighter notes his weaknesses just as he does his strengths. Do you know why?"

"So that he may learn to improve them," Mason said, knowing that his father would drag the speech on until he finally answered.

"Right. But there's another reason as well. A good fighter always notes his weaknesses so that he may find a way to use it as his strength."

Mason's eyebrows lifted up in surprise. "How does that work?"

"When you acknowledge your weaknesses, you find a way to use them in your favor."

"How do you do that?"

" It's not just by strength that a person wins. You have to be cold and calculative. Use your weakness to think that you are weaker than most. Hide your strength until the time is right. Then use your strength. Your opponents won't know what hit them and it's a great way to hide. Sometimes it's good to come out full-force, swinging. Other times, you have to be deceptive."

"I all ready am," growled Mason, slightly insulted.

"Then don't let your pride get in the way of that. Do you understand?"

Mason nodded. "Yes."

His Father nodded, yet the expression on his face said that he wasn't convinced. He let it slide though. "Have you trained with your sword yet?"

"I did some training last night while you were out filing paperwork."

"How did it go?"

"I disabled my Pre-Mentor in two minutes, and left a blow on his collarbone that will take a week to heal."

"Good. This year is your last year in order to be in the Hunger Games. No matter what happens, you have to get in. Even if it means volunteering. If you have to, duel any of the boys for the position. Don't let them overcome you."

"Believe me, I won't."

His Father nodded. Placing a hand on Mason's shoulder, he smiled. "Go and get ready for the Reaping. Shower, put on your best clothes. Come down stairs when you're ready. After that, we'll head down to the Square."

Mason nodded once, put the towel over his shoulder, grabbed his water bottle, and obeyed.

0o0o0o0

"Stupid old man," Mason muttered to himself as he undressed himself and stepped into the shower of his private bathroom. He set the temperature of the water to a medium hot setting by clicking a few commands on the control panel. Instantly, the water started showering him. He wet his head first, sticking it all the way in. Then he allowed the rest of his body to be wet. He stood under the shower for a few moments, letting it pour over him as he pondered over what his Father said. "What does he know anyway?"

_Apparently a lot_, a voice said deep inside his head. _He is the Head Peacekeeper of District Two after all_. _Not many people can claim to have the same honor_. _And it wasn't just given to him either_. _He was a rookie Peacekeeper once_. _He had to work all the way to the top to get to the position he is today_.

Mason shook the voice aside though. "I don't need those stupid lectures my Father gives me," he said to himself. "I already know I'm going to win. I've been training for this moment since I was young. I know how to wield a sword, I know how to use a spear, and I'm excellent in hand-to-hand combat. Not to mention I can be calculating when I choose to be. I don't need all of that crap about 'acknowledging weaknesses' and 'using them to my advantage.' It's bull. Who's the moron who came up with that any way?"

After shampooing and washing his body, he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He quickly inspected himself in the mirror. Seeing that there were just some faint traces of curling blond hair on his cheeks and the first signs of a mustache coming, he decided he should shave. When he finished, he quickly examined himself one more time. His shaggy blond hair was wet and could use a good combing. He combed his hair so it swept across his forehead. A couple of the strands got in his eyes sometimes, but he didn't care. Mason was proud of his hair. It was one of the features that he had best going for him. Along with his strong muscles and liquid gold eyes which seemed to pull in all of the girls who looked into them to him. He was smart enough to admit that his looks were going to be one of the things going for him, his hair being a huge contributor. Like his body, he nourished it carefully. Using only the best shampoos and conditioners, the best combs, and even the best barbers the few times he actually did cut his hair.

Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he stepped into his room. He walked over to his closet, which held nearly seventy kinds of different clothes. Mason didn't think he needed so many. His Pre-Mentors had insisted that it was important to keep a wardrobe with a large variety. Clothes made the appearance just as the body did. There were athletic clothes, expensive suits and ties, and lots of casual wear. He chose a black short-sleeved dress shirt and a pair of black dress pants. They had just come back from the Dry Cleaners, and were only bought a couple of days ago. These were the clothes that he planned on wearing to the Reaping Ceremony. To complete the look, he chose a crimson tie. The tie was soft as he ran it through his fingers. Excitement rushed through him. The color reminded him of what was to come. No matter what, he knew this year was the year he was going to take part in the Games. _Nothing _was going to stop him.

After this, he went over to his cedar drawer and chose a pair of undergarments and an undershirt which kept his strong shoulders bare. Once he slipped these on, he quickly put on the dress shirt, the dress pants. He wanted to tie the tie himself, but he knew that Pine, his annoying girlfriend who only had her good looks going for her, would want to tie it for him.

Just as he was thinking about Pine, his cell phone rang. He walked over to where it sat on his cedar chest and picked it up. Checking the Caller I.D., he saw his suspicions were correct. It was Pine calling him. Her picture was smiling right at him. She was a girl of medium height with short, straight dark hair and brown eyes. She was one of the prettiest girls in the Girl Tribute Training Academy. There was one for boys and one for girls because the people who ran them felt that having the two genders together would cause distractions. When you entered the Academy, you made a commitment, your training would come first before any personal pleasure. Yet the idiots put the schools across the street from each other. So needless to say, that Commitment to the Academy was often broken.

Mason had met many girls because of this. During Break Time, which was the only hour given to the Boys where they could relax from Training, the boys and the girls often went to visit one another. Sometimes the visits could be awarding. Mason himself had flirted with many girls, had dated many girls, ...done other things with many girls. Somehow, he still managed to keep it a secret from the Academy. Either that, or the Academy didn't care. He was the son of the Head Peackeeper after all. The Head Peacekeeper could find a few different reasons to bring up charges if they threatened to expel their son. Unlike some people in other Districts, Mason knew he had it made. Some had to pave their own roads before they reached their goals. His already was, he just had to made sure he stuck to it.

Sometimes straying from the road could be fun. This was one of the few times it wasn't. He answered the phone. "Hello."

"Hello sweetheart," Pine said, her voice a little too high pitched and annoying for Mason's liking. Yet he still managed to find a way to bear it. Even though there were times he wished he could cleanse his ears and mind of the sound once he had finished speaking with her. "Are you excited about today's Reaping?"

"More than you can imagine," he said. Which was probably true. Pine had a head that seemed to be filled with nothing but air. He figured he'd better not say this out loud though. Instead, he went on to say, "I plan on volunteering this year."

"Oh Mason, you're so brave," she said to him. "You're my hero! My Tribute with a glimmering sword and vicious demeanor."

Yet another reason why he got annoyed with her. He doubted she even knew what demeanor meant. "Well, I try."

"Are you dressed yet?"

"Pretty much. I'm going to wait for you to tie the tie though," he said.

"You're so romantic!" she exclaimed. He could imagine a ridiculously huge excited grin on her face. "What color is it?"

"Crimson."

"Just like the color of my lips!" she exclaimed joyously. "Oh, you're so thoughtful! Miss my lips that much?"

It was her lips and only a couple of other things that he really missed about her. The rest he could do without. He couldn't believe how brainless she could be. She seemed to forget that he chose crimson because crimson was his favorite color. It had nothing to do with her lips. He couldn't tell her that though, otherwise he would have to deal with her sobbing for the next hour. Mason didn't need the headache, so he lied. "You bet. I chose it exactly because I miss your lips."

Pine sighed happily. "I'm so lucky to have a boyfriend like you!" There was the sound of a voice calling Pine's name on her side of the phone. Pine sighed. "I have to go, my Mother and Father say that it's time for me to finish getting ready for the Reaping."

Mason smiled. "Are you wearing something pretty?" he murmured in the phone.

"Very pretty," she whispered in a seductive tone. "I'll talk with you later babe. Love you. Bye."

"Bye," he said, slightly disappointed. He had wanted to learn more about the dress. He ended the call though and put his phone in his pocket. Ah well. It wasn't like he wouldn't be seeing her there. They both lived relatively close to the Square. And as the Head Peacekeeper's son, he and his friends had special privileges. They would be allowed to chat before the actual Reaping started and they would have to be sorted into groups based on their ages and genders.

"Mason! Are you almost ready? I want to get to the Square!" he heard his father shout from the bottom of the grand staircase.

Mason walked over to his mirror in his bathroom and checked to make sure his hair looked decent. After brushing down a couple of strands he smiled. He left the bathroom and went back in his room. He took one last look around his room. He looked at his bed with its blue covers, his TV with multiple channels, his dresser, and lastly, a picture of him and his best friend in the world...Tiger Bengal.

The picture was perhaps one of the most precious things to him aside from Tiger herself. They were best friends. At first when he saw her, he had paid little attention to her, barely even gave a glance. She was just another girl who was training for the day that she may end up being reaped. Or if she wished, to want to take somebody's place in the Games. On top of that, she was a year younger than him. Normally he didn't pay attention to girls who were younger than him.

Tiger had made it clear when they first met that she didn't want to be in the Games, she did have a family she wanted to care for, and she couldn't do that if she died. Still, she trained so that just in case, if she was reaped and nobody volunteered (which barely happened) she would at least stand a fighting chance. He did think this was strange, especially because he had been training for the moment when he could volunteer since he could remember, he still respected her. She was a brilliant fighter, and would have brought great honor to District Two if she were to take part in the Games. He could still remember even today how she had come to earn that respect. One time, a couple of boys were teasing her, telling her that because she was a girl she would never be able to beat them. He remembered watching in amazement as she had grabbed the one boy's arm, kicked him in the gut, then tossed him over her shoulder as if he were a measly small bag of sugar. Then she tripped the other boy and pinned him by the shoulders with her knees. He could still remember her words. "If I were in the Games, and you were my victim now, I would carve your neck open."

The words were cold and serious. And afterwords, he couldn't help but talk to her. Within moments, they had become best friends.

He wished that he could bring the picture with him. But he knew that in the Games, it would probably be ruined. Mason couldn't bear the thought of that. So he sighed and closed the door behind him.

Walking over to the top of the staircase, he found his Father still waiting for him. He was drumming his fingers on the banister. "You ready?" his Father had asked again.

"Ready, let's go."

. . . . .

Avery Nickolet nocked an arrow onto her bowstring. She gripped the feathered end of the arrow between her index finger and her middle finger. This was so when she drew it back, the arrow would have direction, and not fly off its course. She then took sight of the target. It was a cardboard cut-out square with a huge ring made up of different colored rings serving as a target. Carefully, she aimed, sighting the red bulls-eye in the center, surrounded by a wider ring of yellow, surrounded by a wider circle of blue. A black background covered the rest of the square, representing a miss.

Once she was satisfied with her aim, she drew back the bowstring, taking care to make sure to use her back muscles, pulling her shoulder-blades together. She lined the feathered end of the arrow with the corner of her mouth. "Excellent," she said, preparing to release it.

"Avery!"

Her concentration left the arrow, and the voice startled her into moving her arm just an inch. Her hand released the arrow. With a thunk, the arrow landed into the the outer edge of the yellow ring. She frowned, displeased. Quickly she knocked another arrow onto her string and repeated the process that she had just previously done. Within seconds, an arrow was quavering along the outer edge of the red zone in the target. Pleased with her results, she turned to the person who had called her name. Her hard expression softened a tiny (however only tiny) bit when she saw it was her little eight year old sister, Brooke. The sweet little girl was wearing a pretty pink dress with a pink ribbons tying her hair into pigtails. "What is it?" she asked her sister with a stern edge, trying to show that she didn't like that her sister had interrupted her shot, and in the process also ruining it.

Brooke seemed to get it. Timidly, she said, "Vincent and Michael are ready. We're waiting for you to finish so that we can go to the Square."

Avery sighed. She looked up at the sky, and saw that the sun was in it's afternoon position. She had been practicing all day and had taken a break only for lunch. She could feel the sweat on her forehead rolling down and also the sweat building up in her arms. No doubt she looked a complete mess. Good thing Michael had gotten her brother and sister ready for the Reaping ahead of time. She had a feeling she was going to take a while. "Alright," she said, the sternness leaving her voice. "You go and wait with Michael and Vincent. I will be ready in about twenty minutes. Kay?"

"'Kay," Brooke responded, a smile gracing her face when she saw the stern edge leave her sister's voice.

It was this image that seemed to haunt Avery as she quickly climbed into the shower. She adjusted the heat and other settings, and just soaked there for a few minutes before washing up. Afterwards she quickly dried herself off with a rough red towel and put on the best dress she could find in her closet. It was a light blue dress with imprints of violet flowers on them. It was a dress that use to belong to her Mother before she passed away. An image of her mother passed before her eyes. She was a tall woman with long dark hair, and in some ways, she was a spitting image of Avery herself. There was a tightening feeling in her chest. One that, even today, she still struggled with. They say that a person becomes accustomed to the pain when you lose a couple of family members. If this pain was accustomed, she wondered if there was a better brand.

Once she was dressed, she brushed her long, straight dark hair. Then she took a tie and tied it in a ponytail. Except for her archery practices, she hardly ever used a tie on her hair. But she wanted to be recognizable to the people. Today was the day. Deep down, she knew it was. She had been preparing for this moment since she was eleven years old.

Today was the day when she would be taking part in the Hunger Games. Avery was going to make sure it happened.

She wasn't thrilled for the Games because of the fame. She didn't want to bring glory to her family. (Her parents were dead, and her little brother and sister never really understood the glory behind killing others.) No, she was doing this to bring in the fortune. She wanted to win the Games so that she could bring her and her siblings out of poverty. She was tired of having to scrape by while watching others thrive. For all her life, Avery had been working exhausting jobs, and juggling school on top of that. If it weren't for her best friend Michael, they wouldn't have lasted as long. Michael helped work in the weapons manufacturing plants. He got paid a good sum of money for his work too. Still, between the four of them, life was rough. They could never afford to go to cinemas or theaters or buy fancy toys. They could barely afford a birthday cake for the twins' birthdays.

That's why she was going to take part in the Games. She was doing it for her brother and sister. She was doing it for Michael. In some ways, she was also doing it for herself.

She knew that there would be plenty of girls who'd want to take the spot. Traditionally, because District Two often had so many Volunteers, it was established that the Volunteers would duel for the spot. She took a belt with a small dagger sheath on it. She then carefully placed her dagger in it. Avery wouldn't say she was skilled in dagger wielding, but she knew enough to hold her own for a time. Perhaps she would get lucky and nobody would volunteer.

Finished, she checked herself in the mirror to give a final critique. When she was satisfied, she left her room. She didn't even bother to take a last glance around. No matter what happened, she was determined that she would never see the house again. The roofs leaked, the floors creaked, rodents got in on occasion. It was not a home she had wanted to live in, had not wanted her family to live in. She was determined not to even acknowledge it.

She stepped outside, and she could tell that it was one o' clock. The clock tower in the District Square was ringing, announcing the coming of the hour. And today, it was announcing that in just one hour, two children would be chosen to be sent to the Capitol to fight in the Hunger Games. To either bring victory to their District and honor to their family, or to die in the attempt.

"But it won't be for honor or victory," Avery whispered to herself. She gathered her brother and sister around her, taking their hands in hers. She looked at her sister, very adorable in her Reaping dress. She looked at her brother Vincent. He was a cute little boy with his hair combed, wearing a blue dress shirt and dark dress pants. He was grinning from ear to ear. No matter what happened, he always seemed to find a bright side to every thing. Always managed to find a reason to remain happy, no matter the situation. Avery wished she could be more like him. Life had taken that away from her though, and no matter what she offered, life refused to give it back. "It'll be for them."

She turned to her friend, Michael. He was sixteen years old like she was, but he was kind of tall for his age. He was also muscled, years working in the shops that made the weapons had helped him develop muscles that could lift over one hundred pounds of metal. His skin was permanently tanned. He always stood beside the fires, hammering and welding. It was no wonder his skin was like that. Dark brown eyes conveyed that he was also more mature beyond his age, perhaps more mature than he ought to have been. Life had been just as cruel to him as it had to her. It had taken away his whole family when a great fire had raged, destroying his whole neighborhood. Only he and a couple others survived. If there was such a thing as fate, then that was the thing that probably pulled them together. Each needing the other in order to survive.

Michael looked at her. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"I am."

She had not bothered to tell her brother and sister what she was planning on doing. She knew they would never approve. And if they didn't approve, she knew she would never get anything accomplished. They were just that headstrong. She had told Michael though, while her brother and sister were asleep. Despite his reservations, he eventually agreed. "If only there was another way," he had said.

"But there isn't. This is the only chance we have."

"It's not much."

"A little is better than none."

They had left the conversation at that.

Avery gripped the hilt of the knife in her hand. As long as she was able to do something about it, she was going in the Games. She didn't care what had to be done. If it meant having to kill another girl for the spot, she was going to do it.

That was how much she loved her family and Michael. Enough to kill in order to keep them alive and give them a decent chance. Somebody had to do it. Because fate seemed like it didn't want to.


	6. Chapter 5: The Reaping of District Two

Chapter Five

District Two's Reaping

Before he got to do whatever he wished, Mason had to sign in. Tables had been set up, and some Peacekeepers led him over to a table that was apparently signing in the eighteen year olds. There were two women behind the table, and they had him write his name down on a sheet of paper which had dotted lines dividing it into rectangles and squares. The rectangles were used so that he may write his name six times. For every year, your name was added once. When he was in his second year, Mason's name had been added twice. Now, his name was going to be entered six times. The squares were apparently used to get his identification, to check and make sure he was actually Mason Ryker. Once his name had been written neatly down six times, they forced him to hold out his right index finger. They then took a pen and jabbed the point into it. When they pulled it out, they had him rest his finger on a square. When he removed it, there was a fingerprint made of his blood. The pen ran the DNA collected from his blood through a database. Then it confirmed that the DNA his blood had provided did in fact belong to him, and they let him pass, giving him a cotton ball so that he could stop the bleeding.

It took no more than a minute to keep the little droplets of blood from leaving him. Mason wandered around the Square, watching as the people started to pour in. Peacekeepers marched left and right, drilling. He saw his father was drilling a special elite of Peacekeepers. Ones that got called out during the most dangerous of situations in Panem. This was another reason why his Father wanted to get to the Square early. Being the Head Peacekeeper meant you had to be willing to come nearly an hour early in order to drill the troops.

"Yo, Mason!" a voice called from behind him. Mason turned and saw his friend Jason walking up to him. He was a short boy about a year younger than Mason, with red tinted brown hair and a built body. Following behind him was Orion, another one of Mason's friends. He was of medium height, with short dark hair and green eyes. He was built as well. All three of them were, they did go to the same Academy. They both wore white dress shirts and had black ties around their necks, their girlfriends having already tied them.

"Hey man," Mason said, fist-bumping Jason's fist, then Orion's. "You guys ready for this?"

"Heck yeah," said Jason. "I'm ready. Today, one of us is definitely going to the Capitol."

"I plan on it being me," said Mason. "No matter what happens, I'm going to the Games this year."

Both of his friends nodded. They both knew how important this was to him. "Well man, we won't ruin it for you," said Orion. "Jason and I have next year. We'll get the spot then."

"Be sure you two beat each other good. Give the Capitol a good show."

"You can count on it," said Jason.

Just as Mason was about to say more, a voice cried, "Oh Mason! My Victor!" Before he realized it, Pine was wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind. He grimaced, and he heard his friends snicker. If he didn't have to deal with Pine, he would have thrown them both to the ground. Instead, he turned to Pine and reluctantly said, "Hey babe." He wished he could scrub his mouth out with soap.

Pine squealed when she heard him call her 'babe'. "Did you bring the tie?"

Mason looked her over first. She did look very pretty. She wore a crimson red dress that came down to her ankles. The dress left her shoulders bare and her back bare as well. Seeing them made Mason smile. Despite all her personality flaws, he had to admit she was pretty stunning. He handed the tie to her. "Tie it on," he said.

Gladly she did. In seconds, she was looking him over. "You look so good, I could probably eat you," she said.

Mason smiled. Looking her over again, he said, "Not so bad yourself." He then noticed that around her neck she wore a locket. In the sunlight, he could make out the engraving. It was their initials. Pine caught him looking at it, and squealed. "Do you love it? I just bought it this morning!" Lifting the necklace over her head, she handed it to him. "Take a look inside!"

Mason opened it. He felt his mouth go dry. A slight queasy feeling rolled around in his stomach. On one side of the locket was a picture of Pine wearing only a short female Peacekeeper uniform. Except the sleeves had been cut off and the leggings had been cut into shorts. She was standing in a position that was actually quite erotic. The other picture was one of him. He was wearing a towel around his waist, he looked like he had just dried himself after taking a shower. Where had she even gotten that picture? That was when he remembered. One night while his Father was out doing paperwork at the Justice Building, he had invited Pine over to his place. Within an hour, they had been "doing the deed." When they had finished, he had taken a shower, dried himself off, and that's when she had taken the picture with her phone.

Now there it was, looking straight at him.

Quickly he closed it. He didn't need the others seeing it. Of course, every one knew that he had done many similar things with other girls even before Pine, but still. He had managed to keep it to where it could never be proven. If his Father saw that, things were going to explode. Handing it back to Pine, he smiled. If she saw the concerned look in his expression, she would ask why. More people were starting to arrive. He couldn't risk being overheard if she started asking him questions. Yet another thing he disliked about her, once she did start asking questions she wouldn't stop until she got an answer. "That's great," he said.

"I know, isn't it!" she exclaimed. "Now whenever I want to think about that night I can just open my locket!" There was a woman's voice shouting over at her. "Shoot," she said. "That must be my mother. She said she would let me talk with you for a few minutes before I had to sign in. I'll see you later."

Pine left before he could say goodbye. That was fine with him. Right now, he wasn't exactly so sure what to say to her. For a moment he wanted to panic. That picture could ruin his image. But then he stopped and reassured himself. "What are you worried about?" he muttered to himself, "It'll probably just make you all the more popular with the Capitol."

"What will make you more popular with the Capitol?" asked a feminine voice coming from his right. He turned and saw Tiger walking up to him. She wore her hair up in a ponytail. Her dress left one shoulder bare, but covered the other. It was white and fell down just above her feet. Not too revealing at the ankles, but not so low where she had to pick it up to keep from stepping and tripping on it. He had to admit, she looked pretty. Not the kind of pretty where he wanted to date her. No, they were way too far down the path of being best friends to even go there. It was more of an acknowledging sort of pretty. Just as you might when you saw a complete stranger or a film star and thought they looked pretty.

Mason shook his head. "Nothing."

Tiger frowned. It was clear she didn't believe him. "You know I'm going to find out eventually."

That was very true. Tiger had a way of finding things out about him. She could read him like an open book. It was how she had found out that beneath his conceited and shallow nature there was also a trace of a charming, intelligent nature as well. She had even figured out that when nobody was looking, he loved to sing. He never came out and admit it, he was afraid that it would put him on the low end of the totem pole of the Academy. Flirting and doing things with the other girls was one thing. Singing was another. Finally he said, "Pine has a picture of me in her locket."

"So, what's the big deal?"

"It's what I'm doing in it that is bugging me."

"What are you-? Oh...," she said, coming to the realization. A tisk escaped her. "Doing it with Pine now are we? Someone forgot to mention that to me."

"I thought I told you a couple of days ago."

"No, you were too busy training remember?"

He wanted to face-palm himself. Of course! He had been so busy training, he had forgot to keep Tiger in a loop. "Right," he said.

"What do you plan on doing?"

"I don't know. Maybe break up with her."

"She'll have the picture with her. She could still use it."

"I planned on breaking up with her soon anyway. She's really getting on my nerves. Her body was the only thing keeping my interest. Besides, it doesn't matter. The picture could actually work to my advantage. Make me look desirable to the crowd. That will get me some Sponsors."

"Maybe. Still. Be cautious. You never know what could happen."

"You sound like my sister." He didn't have any sisters. But he was pretty sure if he were to have one, she would be a lot like Tiger.

"Somebody has to," she teased. There was the sound of music starting. It was the anthem of Panem playing. It could mean only one thing, the Reaping was about to start. "Guess we better get into our groups."

"Yeah. Good luck Tiger. May the odds be ever in your favor."

"You too. You're planning on volunteering aren't you?"

"Yes."

Tiger sighed. "Well, may the odds be _definitely_ in your favor."

"Believe me," Mason said with a confident smirk, "they already are."

. . . . .

Avery and Michael had just checked in when the anthem had begun to play. Camera crews were hovering everywhere like annoying insects. Before the Justice Building stood a wooden stage that had been temporarily set up. There were large televisions on the right and left side of the stage so that anyone who stood on the stage could be easily seen. There was also a podium. And there were eight chairs on the stage. These chairs were for the Mayor of District Two, the Capitol Escort, and the rest were for the six past Victors who had won the Games for District Two. In the center of the stage there was also a wooden table with two bowls in them. One was filled with slips of paper which had all the eligible girls in it. The other was filled with the eligible boys' names. Avery shuddered when she saw the bowls, but said nothing. She had been doing this since she was twelve. Four years. They hardly caused her fear any more. Besides, didn't she want to be a member of the Games? Why was she afraid she'd be picked?

"_It's because you aren't exactly sure yourself_," a voice said inside her. She shook her head though. Avery didn't need any one to tell her she was still nervous. It would only add to the worry that was already developing in her stomach.

The Peacekeepers were starting to organize everyone into the roped-off section in the Square. Every one else was forced to stand around the perimeter of the roped-off section. Before they were separated, Avery bent down and looked in her siblings' faces. "Be sure you two stick together. We'll see each other soon." She couldn't bring herself to tell them what she was about to do.

Brooke and Vincent held hands. Avery nodded. "Now go on," she told them. "Before the Peacekeepers get cranky." They obeyed without protest.

Michael looked at her curiously. "How come you haven't told them yet?"

"You know why."

"The time seemed right to me though."

"No, I have to tell them _after _the Reaping. Once I'm in, they'll have no choice but to accept it."

"Perhaps there's a different way. I'm sure if I worked harder I could get a promotion-"

"That's only an _if_," Avery said harshly. "Michael, you and I know better than any one in District Two that _if_ is a word that can't be counted on."

Michael frowned and sighed in frustration. He kicked a stray pebble with the toe of his shoe. "I know. It's just that I don't want to lose you."

"You aren't going to lose me. I'm going to be entered in the Games. I'm going to go to the Capitol. I'll go to the Arena. And I'll come out alive. There is no if, and, or but about it. Understand?"

"Yes," he said. They were about to be separated. Peacekeepers were already leading him to a section where the sixteen year old boys were kept. "I'm just wondering who are you trying to convince more: me, or yourself?"

The words would haunt her throughout the Reaping as the Peacekeepers led them away from each other.

The music stopped playing. From the right hand side, eight people came on the stage. The first one to come on the stage was a woman with ridiculously poofy turquoise hair and purple designs stenciled around her eyebrows. She wore a strange eggshell white dress with red roses dotting it. Everyone recognized her at once, it was Ketta Brindle. She was the Capitol Escort for District Two. She had managed to hold that position for three years. Following her was Mayor Daring, a man in his early forties who wore a Peacekeeper uniform with a blue rose badge on it, signifying that at one point in his career, he had risked his life serving Panem and had been wounded in the process. It must have been in his leg, because he was limping slightly. Yet no one drew attention to this or thought any less of him. Overall, Daring was a pretty popular mayor. The last to follow were the past Victors who had won the Games for District Two. Their expressions were fierce and strong. There was a sense of pride. As if killing twenty-three other kids in an arena was the best thing they had ever done in their lives.

Once everyone who was supposed to be on stage was, Mayor Daring limped over to the podium. "Welcome citizens of District Two," he greeted. "Happy Hunger Games. I ask that you all be silent as I retell the history of how the Hunger Games came to be and why we do it."

"More like bore us to death," Avery whispered to herself. She didn't say this out loud though. She would definitely get in trouble for that. Then she wouldn't be allowed to take part in the Games. Refusing to let that happen, she decided to keep her thoughts to herself.

Everyone was silent as the Mayor told the history of Panem. They listened as he told how long ago, the country of Panem had risen from the ashes of a land called North America. He tells of the great disasters, droughts, famines, storms, fires, and how the seas, the great lakes, and the bays encroached the land. After that, there was war over the remaining sustenance. Finally, after many long, terrible years, the war was called to a stop. The nation of Panem was born. A great and glorious Capitol was built, and surrounding this Capitol were thirteen outlying Districts. Peace and prosperity reigned over Panem and its citizens.

Then came the Dark Days. When the Districts chose to rebel against the Capitol. Twelve had been quashed, while the thirteenth had been completely destroyed. To make sure that another rebellion never happened again, the Treaty of Treason was established. The Treaty stated that in order for the Districts and the Capitol to be at peace, the Districts must take part in the annual Hunger Games.

The Hunger Games were simple. Each District had to send two tributes, one boy and one girl, to the Capitol. These twenty-four Tributes were forced into an arena, where they must fight each other to the death, until only one remained. When one remained, then that one would be crowned the Victor. The Victor would get lifelong reassurance that they would never have to take part in another Hunger Game, they would be able to live a life of luxury.

It was cruel. It was sick. It was twisted. It was horrendous.

Despite her hatred for it, Avery could see why some loved it. Why not get a crack at the fortune? When it came down to it, money was money. No matter what you do to get it.

The Mayor then listed the previous winners of the Hunger Games which had come from District Two. There was Arion Mills, the first Victor, who had won during the first ever Hunger Games. Then came Miley Porter, a woman who had won during the tenth. After her came another woman named Kyra Oxton. She was different from the others, her skin color was brown and she had curly black hair. She had won the eleventh Hunger Games. Following her came Baron Lotter, a man who was still in his early twenties. He had won the fourteenth Hunger Games back when he was only twelve years old. After him came Perseus Imeus, who had won the twenty-second Hunger Games. He had also been the first ever boy from District Two to win because he was what the lower Districts called a "Career." Meaning he had trained long before his name had been picked. The last one to come on stage was Angie Fales, who won the twenty-sixth Hunger Games. She had been the first Career girl to win.

"Now," said the Mayor, "I turn the attention away from me, and to our District's Escort to the Capitol. Everyone, please put your hands together for Ketta Brindle."

Everyone watched as Ketta got up from her seat and walked over to the podium. She waved to the crowd in greeting. "Hello! Hello! Hello! Welcome everyone! It's been such an honor to be here in District Two to take part in the annual Reaping for the Thirtieth Hunger Games. It most truly has. Now then, as the protocol says, I am to reach into each of the bowls, and pull out a name. The name which is drawn will be the person going to the Capitol. If anyone would like to volunteer in the person's place though, they may step forward after the one whose name has been chosen is standing on the stage. A duel will then be held to decide which person will be going to the Capitol.

"We will start with ladies first."

Avery held her breath. This was the moment. The moment she had waited for. Her eyes turned to the bowl. Somewhere in there, her name had been written. There were hundreds of slips of paper in there. The odds of her being chosen were slim. Which was why even now, she was preparing for the moment when she could scream that she wanted to volunteer. She sucked in a breath and kept in there, feeling her heart thump as Ketta dug her hand into the bowl, sifted through the pieces of paper, then pulled a name out of the bowl.

Ketta walked back to the podium with the folded strip of paper. She then rested her hands on the podium. Through the microphone which stemmed off of it, everyone could hear her hands unfolding it, and smoothing it out so she could read it better. "Our Girl Tribute for this year's annual Hunger Games is..."

"Let it be me. Let it be me. Dang it, let it be me," Avery whispered to herself.

"Avery Nicholet."

. . . . .

"Would you please come on up here darling," Ketta said after she had read the name of the girl who had been chosen to be the girl tribute for District Two.

Mason's eyes turned in the direction of the girls. He noticed that towards the upper middle of the crowd, there was movement as girls were stepping aside so that the girl who had been chosen would be able to make her way to the stage. He couldn't see her at first. And he didn't recognize the name either. She wasn't from the Girl's Academy. Already he could tell that a girl would be taking her place once she was on stage.

He finally spotted her. Avery Nicholet. She was a girl of medium height and weight. She had tan skin and her hair was a light brown. She was wearing a blue dress with violet imprint designs on it. What made Mason want to laugh was the belt that had a dagger sheath sewn to it. Inside was a dagger. Did that girl honestly believe she stood a chance? One look said that she had never been to an Academy.

Ketta welcomed Avery. Then she turned back to the crowd. "Are there any ladies out there who are eligible and would like to volunteer as Girl Tribute for District Two?"

"I will!" said a voice.

Everyone turned and saw an eighteen-year-old girl stepping up to the stage. She was a girl of medium build, who had blond hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a pink dress with a rose carefully woven in her hair. Mason recognized her at once. It was Helen Nain. One of the few girls who had managed to resist his charm when he had attempted to flirt with her. She had a belt around her dress as well, and sewn to it was a sheath which held a sword. Mason chuckled. Did that Avery girl actually think she stood a chance against Helen? He had seen Helen fight. She took down a team of girls who had tried to overcome her by numbers. The results were disastrous for the girls who had tried it, all of them went to the Nurse with broken noses and cuts along their arms and legs. At least, that's what the rumors said.

Helen stood on stage. Ketta welcomed her and then turned to the crowd. "Is there anyone else who would like to duel for the honor of being District Two's Girl Tribute?" No more volunteers came up. Mason smirked. Clearly they were all scared off when they found that Helen was going for the spot. Helen was at the top of her class, she had even managed to beat Tiger by a few grade points. None of them wanted to mess with that.

"No? Well then. Avery, would you like to- oh my goodness!"

Every one watched in complete shock as Avery threw herself on top of Helen. She grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked as hard as she could. Helen screamed, and tried to throw her off. But it was no use, her head was too tilted back and the next thing Mason saw was blood trickling down Helen's neck, and Avery holding a bloody knife. She turned to Ketta, raising the knife towards her. "Is that proof enough that I want to compete?"

Ketta gulped. But she managed to recompose herself though. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you our Girl Tribute for District Two, Avery Nicholet."

The whole crowd clapped. Mason found himself clapping as well. Because he was one of the older kids, he had been towards the front of the crowd of kids. He was able to make out the slight details. How Avery had managed to take Helen by surprise without even waiting for the announcement for the duel to start was given. He could recall Avery taking her knife from her sheath, tackling Helen, yanking back Helen's hair so her neck was exposed, then stabbing her there. For a girl who had never been to an Academy, the move was pretty brutal.

"_Perhaps you should watch out for her,_" the voice inside him said. He shook it aside though, ignoring it. The only reason why Avery had managed to beat Helen was because she had caught her by surprise. He would just have to be wary of her, yes. But he had no doubt his skills would be able to take her down.

A pair of Peacekeepers were called over to remove the body of Helen Nain. Once they do, someone is pulled from the crowd to clean the blood that had managed to pool on the stage. While this is went on, Ketta decided to move on with the Reaping. From the way she walked though, everyone could tell she was slightly nervous. "We will now move on to the gentlemen," she said, her voice shaking slightly. As she reached into the bowl to pull out a boy's name though, she managed to recollect herself. When she had a slip of paper in her hand, she walked back over to the podium. Again, she unfolded it and smoothed it. The whole time, Mason stood and waited. He was practically on the edge of his nerves. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. The moment the name was blurted out, he didn't care who it was, he was going to jump on stage.

Ketta then read the name. "Jason Pike."

Recognizing the name as his friend's, Mason grabbed the edge of the stage and hauled himself up. He did a quick roll, coming up on his feet smoothly, and stood beside Ketta before Jason even climbs the stairs. "I volunteer as Tribute!" Mason exclaimed.

Ketta was about to say something, but Jason threw his hands up in the air. "Mason's my friend. He's wanted this since I can recall remembering him. I'll get it next year."

Ketta was completely stunned by this. In just a few minutes, the protocol for the Reaping had been broken _twice_. Not knowing how to make it better though, she turns to the crowd. "District Two, I give you this year's Boy Tribute. Mason...uh..." she pauses.

"Ryker," Mason finishes.

"Mason Ryker! Let's give him a round of applause." This was done. "Now let's give one more round of applause to both Mason and to Avery Nicholet." This was done as well. Ketta then turned to Mayor Daring. "This has been an exciting day." Everyone knew she was trying to cover up for the fact she had nearly jumped out of her skin twice. Turning to Avery and Mason, she said, "Now shake hands."

Mason turned to Avery and looked her in the eyes. She didn't even bother to try and mask her expression. He chuckled in his head. She may have been able to take Helen by surprise, but that's all she was going to be good at. The first thing they taught you in the Academy was to keep your face devoid of expression after the Reaping was finalized. It kept the audience drawn in, wanting to know what you will do next.

Whereas Avery's face on the other hand was contorted with a mixture of emotions. Mason could make out a sense of triumph, a sense of confidence, a sense of passion. But he could also make out a little worry as well. Just by these emotions, he could tell that she was becoming a Tribute for one particular reason. The next step was to determine what was that reason.

The Mayor read the Treaty of Treason. The Anthem played when he finished. Then Mason and Avery turn to the crowd. The crowd roared in pleasure and amazement.

Mason smiled from ear to ear. At long last, he had achieved his goal. He was going to be a part of the Hunger Games.

"More than that," he whispered to himself. "You aren't just going to the Games. You're going to win them. The way has been paved for you. Now you just need to follow it."


	7. Chapter 6: Ada and Zeke

**By the way, I know my math is slightly rough. I did it on a calculator, but math was never my strong suit. Hopefully it comes out correct.**

**The Reaping of District Three shall be broken into two parts. Hopefully it's good. This chapter was a little rough for me to write. **

**Let's move on to the story. :)**

Chapter Six

Ada and Zeke

Ada Brennan ran the brush through her sandy blond hair. Her hair, curly and wavy at the same time, while not eager at first, started to obey the brush. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, relieved that her hair was finally starting to obey, she had been brushing her hair for nearly half an hour already. With a glance, she saw that the time read one o' clock. Frowning, she got up from the chair in front of her mirror and walked over to her bed. At that moment she was only standing in her undergarments. Her eyes rolled over the two good dresses that she had. There was the sky blue one with a white ribbon to tie around her waist, and the other was a sun-yellow dress with a ribbon in a lighter shade of yellow. For a moment she debated over which one she should wear. She bit on her lip, debating in her head. Which of these dresses was best suited for Reaping Day?

_I suppose it hardly matters_, she thought for a few moments. _Either way, if I get chosen, I don't think it would matter_. She decided to go with the yellow one. Yellow wasn't a color she liked much. But a color was a color; it barely mattered what it was used for.

Slipping on the dress, she checked herself in the mirror to make sure it hadn't wrinkled. Perhaps if there was time, her Father could use one of the machines in his shoppe to get the wrinkles out. Or she could use it herself. She did know how to use most of the machines after all. Growing up in a workshop your whole life taught many things about machinery.

"Are you ready, honey?" her Mother asked her on the other side of the door as she knocked.

"I'm dressed Mom, you can come in."

Her Mother entered her room. She grunted as she pushed the door against the hunk of metal blocking the way. "Ada," she said gently but firmly, "what have I told you about leaving those machine parts in front of your door?"

Ada quickly walked over to the door and pushed the metal out of the way. "Sorry, Mom," she said. "I forgot that that was there."

Her Mother entered the room and looked at the metal that Ada had moved. "What is that lovely thing darling?" she asked, though you could tell by her tone that she wasn't sure "lovely" was the proper word for it.

Ada raised her eyebrow. "Um...Mom? That's just a piece of scrap metal. I'm not quite sure what I plan on doing with it yet. I think I might make a computer out of it or something. Might give me a chance to improve my skills."

"Come on, Ada," her Mother said, "don't worry about that last computer you tried to make. So what if it blew up and nearly wiped out the records to your Father's shop? Your Father always has backup databases with the records on them."

"I know. But still. I should have paid better attention. I didn't wire the settings in it correctly. I ought to have just went to bed at three o' clock in the morning like I knew I should have. If I did, perhaps I wouldn't have missed that faulty wiring."

"Don't degrade yourself so much," her Father said as he entered the room. He was an average-sized man with short, curly blond hair and glasses. "You're already one of the best promising programmers District Three has. Soon it won't be long before you'll be able to go to the Tech Academy. With you signing up for tesserae, we'll be able to save on bread and oil, and we'll be able to send you to a school where you can become an even more excellent programmer." Her Father's smile broadened. "In the future, I just know that one day, your name will appear as a logo on the computers that you will make." He then made a motion with his hands, pretending he was using a laptop. Then he tried to do the most ridiculous thing any adult could do: try to act like a modern-day teen. "All over the Capitol, people will be saying, 'Hey man, have you seen my new laptop?' And then kids will say, 'Do you mean the new one that Ada Company launched? I know isn't is fabulous?'"

"How many times have I told you not to talk in the ridiculous Capitol accent?" came a shout from downstairs. Ada had to suppress her laughter behind her hand as her Father jumped in the air a few inches. The one who was yelling at her Father was her Grandfather, her Father's Father. "I swear one of these days you keep talking like that the accent will stick! Then you'll never be able to get rid of it!"

"Won't happen again, Dad," Ada's Father called as he left her room.

Ada had to laugh. She loved it whenever her Father and Grandfather always got on each other's nerves. Her Grandfather was born in a time before Panem had the Hunger Games. He had actually served as a captain for Panem's army, having entered the Peacekeeper force when he was younger. But then he defected to the Rebel army. He was well known for his skills in strategy and surprise attacks. It was he and a few other soldiers who had discovered what it was the Capitol was using in order to collect information on the Rebels. He discovered it one day when he noticed there was a strange breed of bird flying the area that he had no name for: When he and the rest of his squad realized that the bird was the Capitol's jabberjays, which were birds capable of perfectly replicating human speech, they used this information against the Capitol by giving the jabberjays misinformation to repeat to the Capitol.

Her Father always told her not to believe everything her Grandfather told her. But Ada was hung on to her Grandfather's every word. He was a master storyteller, able to call attention even the people who found uselessness in stories. Her Grandfather could talk for hours and hours about the experiences he had during his childhood, his years as a teen, his life in the military, and back when he was a young man with a wife and a son who had been Ada's Father.

Her respect for her Grandfather went so far deep, she would never lose it. Every time she looked at him, admiration swam in her eyes.

He was one of the two people she was going to miss most when she would have to leave to finish her education in a college. The other was her best friend and her secret crush, Isaac Taxer. An image of Isaac flashed before her eyes. His goofy, fun-loving grin. His friendly gray eyes. His dirty blond hair and freckles. Not many girls noticed him that way, but Ada did. No matter what, he always managed to get her to grin, even in her worst of moods.

Of course, she would miss her Father and Mother. But her Grandfather and Isaac were definitely close to her heart.

For some reason, she had never seen herself in the Games. Even during the past four years she had signed up for tesserae. The tesserae gave an eligible person a certain amount grain and oil for every time you entered your name. So instead of having one slip added to the bowl for your first year, you could have two. Your fifth year, you could have your name entered ten times. But there was another catch. You could also add in your name more times depending on how many people were in your family living under the same roof. So Ada's name had been entered five times in her first year, two for her, and one for each of her family members. This year, she had her name in thirty times. For some reason she just never seen herself having to compete in the Games. It was kind of unthinkable.

Her mother had insisted that she learn how to survive though, in case the unthinkable did happen. Ada was more skilled in computers and was more book smart than street smart, but she could hold her own for a time. She had learned how to use a hammer in a fight thanks to the books her mother had bought in the secret black market. She had also studied books on survival, reading about the various kinds edible substances in the wild. She even learned how to make fire if she had tinder or something metallic to help get a spark.

"Come on, Ada. We need to get to the Square," her Mother said.

"Coming, Mother," Ada said as she took a glance around her room. It was small and littered with computer parts and other kinds of machinery. They were the results of her inventive mind always at work. Always wanting to build things. Things that would be useful to someone, something that they would want to buy. The people in the Capitol were always looking for the latest thing: they were never grateful for what they had.

Ada sighed. "I'll be back soon," she said to her computer parts. "Promise."

.

Zeke Razy checked himself in the mirror. He ran his hands through his medium brown, greasy hair. He pushed a few strands of his hair which hung about his forehead aside, revealing the countless red specks that were his blemishes. He frowned slightly: with his pale complexion, the blemishes seemed to be even more noticeable. There was hardly anything he could do about them though. Every brand of zit cream his parents had bought to cure his acne had failed. At least, the ones they could afford anyway. There were some better brands, but they were Capitol-produced. The stuff that movie and TV stars used. Very expensive.

He shrugged. _You've dealt with it since you first hit that point in your life_, _you can deal with it now_, Zeke thought. He fixed the collar of his shirt and adjusted the bow tie that seemed to be constricting his neck. When it was more comfortable, he smiled as he examined himself. He nodded in approval of his red-checkered dress shirt and blue- checkered bow tie. Adjusting his glasses, he then made his way to the kitchen to wait for his family.

From the living room, he could hear his Mother swearing. Apparently something had happened that had sent over the cliff again. His mother was a boiling pot waiting to explode. Whenever she was around, he always felt like he was walking in an area loaded with eggshells. Or mines. One wrong misstep and _bang_!

Something crashed in the living room. Apparently his Mother had just gotten a hold of her new vase. Zeke squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands over his ears as another spew of curses left his Mother's lips. When he opened them, he saw that his Father was practically leaping out of the living room into the kitchen, almost as if he were diving out of the way of an explosion. "Duck!" his Father shouted.

Zeke only just managed to duck his head as another vase came flying in his direction. It smashed against the wall behind him, sending pink and purple rose-patterned shards across the floor.

A sigh escaped from Zeke's Father. He got up from the floor and walked over to Zeke. Hugging him closely to his chest, he asked, "Are you alright, buddy?"

Nodding, Zeke said, "What happened, Dad? Why did she-?"

His Father shrugged. "Same thing as usual."

"Rori?"

"Yes. Rori. Apparently, she didn't return your Mom's calls. She told her to pick up some bread from the store while she was out and drop it by. Your sister didn't listen."

"Why would she? I mean, Rori moved out six months ago."

"Your Mother won't accept the fact that Rori moved out. In her mind, Rori is still dependent on her. And because of that, she gets frustrated."

"She always gets frustrated."

His Father sighed. "Your Mother has issues with control. Her whole life, before I even met her, her life had been controlled. Her parents decided everything for her. Never gave her a say in anything. She put that to a stop when she met me and we married."

"You told me about this before. If she was treated so horribly, how did she get so demanding and controlling?"

"Sometimes when we fear something, we spend so much time trying to be the complete opposite. When that happens, we can blind ourselves on our focus and not check to see the path we are walking on. Your Mother doesn't realize it, but she is walking the same path that her parents had."

"How can she not realize it?"

"People will often blind themselves to truth. 'Cause sometimes, the truth doesn't fit what you want. And when you do that, turn a blind eye to truth, it only leads to pain and misery in your life."

"Why are we still living here? Why can't we move out like Rori did? You have a job and everything. I don't see why we can't just leave her. I want to be able to go a day without my mother freaking out soon as something doesn't go her way."

"I know you are, son," his Father said gently. "But the reason why we have to stay is because leaving her will not be right. Abandoning her isn't going to help. Your Mother just needs time. One of these days, I'm sure, she will realize she has a problem. When that happens, maybe then we can get her help. Until then, there's nothing we can do."

"Yeah there is, you just choose not to," said Zeke. "You choose not to stand up to her. You don't stand up to her now. You don't stand up to her when she attacks you when you have done nothing wrong. You didn't even stand up to her that night Rori and her had that fight! You're just like a turtle. When something bad happens you pull your head back inside your stupid turtle shell!"

"Son," his Father said. "Please. Don't. Not today. Not on the day of the Reaping."

"Why? Because it's such a special holiday? Yeah, watching kids kill each other is a good reason to keep silent."

"No, because today is not the time to handle this. I promise. One of these days, we will do something. Something will be done to fix this. All it will take is time." The sounds of Zeke's mother's rage started to die down. "I'm going to go and talk with her. We have thirty minutes until the Reaping. Why don't you go on ahead; we'll see you afterwards."

0o0o0o0o0

Zeke kicked a rock down the street in front of him. All around him, the District was coming alive with varieties of sounds. People shouting and screaming, little infants wailing, dogs and other animals making their usual sounds, the sounds of the Capitol's flying shuttles hovering in the air above District Three, getting air-view footage.

The streets were crowded. Zeke had to squirm and weave his way through people as he tried to make his way to the Square. In some ways, getting through the throng of people was like trying to work a puzzle. You had to squeeze yourself in just right in order to pass. Only problem was, despite his ability to calculate the right positions he should be in, his body didn't always cooperate. Ever since he was younger, he was a natural klutz. Once, when he was in second grade, he had been helping his Father carry his sister's birthday cake for her fourteenth birthday. He accidentally tripped on a section of the rug that had been poking up. When he did, the cake went splattering right in his sister's face. Which, needless to say, had been embarrassing for her because her friends had been there to celebrate her birthday too.

"Watch where you're going, kid!" a woman shouted as he tried to squeeze his way through her and a man who was handing her a newspaper.

"Sorry, ma'am," he said and continued on.

"You're not the only one who needs to get to the Square!" the woman shouted angrily after him.

Zeke sighed and continued on his way. _You yell at your Dad for not standing up for himself_. A voice inside him said, _look at yourself though you hypocrite_. _Can't stand up for yourself either_.

Shaking his head, Zeke cleared the voice from the back of his head. He may not be able to stand up for himself, but still, that was no excuse for his Father. His Father was a grown man. He ought to be able to grow a backbone. It was required as an adult. Yet he didn't. He didn't do it when Zeke's mother went on a rampage, he didn't do it when his boss had docked his pay because apparently the company couldn't afford to pay him his weekly salary, and he didn't even stick for his own daughter and son when they were threatened. All he did was stand in the background.

He could never hate his Father, but still, the anger that seemed to wash through Zeke whenever he thought about it made him come pretty close to it.

His mood brightened when he reached the Square. Many of the eligible kids from District Three who were in the Reaping had checked in. They were being sorted by their genders and their age groups. Others were standing in front of a table, where people from the Capitol were busy taking blood samples and checking to make sure the kids were who they said they were.

"Zeke!" a voice shouted. He looked in the direction of the table and saw his friend Manny calling him over. "Zeke! Right here!"

Zeke smiled and walked over to the table. "Hey Manny," he said. Somehow, no matter what kind of mood he was in, Zeke could always be happier whenever he saw Manny. Manny was one year younger than him. Zeke couldn't help feeling sorry for him. The fear of being reaped was a fear that had been passed down from parent to child since the Games had first been held thirty years ago. Still, no one truly realized just how scary it was until they entered their first year. In one moment, by some undetermined odd, one could be chosen and plucked from life to be thrown in an arena to either kill or be killed by twenty-three other kids, including another kid who came from your same District. "Are you nervous?"

Manny nodded. "It's my first year."

"Don't worry. You only have your name entered once. You didn't take the tesserae right?"

Manny nodded. "Right."

"Good. You should have nothing to fear then. Twelve-year-olds hardly get picked. The odds are always in their favor."

"They aren't for Keith."

Zeke felt a twist in his stomach. He had nearly forgotten about Keith, who was perhaps his best friend in the whole world. They were two years apart in age, with Keith being the oldest. Though they weren't in the same year in school, the two had managed to become best friends. Mostly because they were both loners, both hardly had any friends. In fact, aside from Manny, Keith was the only other friend that Zeke had. He had always been worried about Keith since Keith attended his first Reaping, two years before Zeke ever had to. This year, not only was it Keith and him, but Manny as well. Either one of them could be chosen. None of them ever took tesserae, but there was always a possibility. Hoping to change the subject, he said, "So, Manny, guess what? I have a joke for you."

Manny's eyes lit up. "A joke? Cool! What kind of joke?"

Before Zeke could tell it though, a masculine voice shouted at Manny. "Manny! Damn it! How many times do I have to tell you not to hang out with this loser?" Zeke and Manny turned in the direction of the voice. The voice's owner was an older boy who looked like Manny. They had the same dark hair and brown hair. They were both short and stout. Most of the people in District Three were thin and wiry, the signs of intellectuals, which were the most successful in the factory-based environment that District Three had taken on when it's principal industry became producing electronic devices: computers, phones, televisions, music devices, etc. But this boy who looked a lot like Manny was a rarity, he was stout and short, but also strong with well-sculpted muscles, at least, compared to many in District Three. No doubt there were those with much better physical appearance in the other Districts. The older boy who had been shouting at Manny pulled him over and growled, "How many times have I told you not to hang out with Zeke? You want to be an outcast like him?"

"Zeke isn't an outcast!" Manny protested. "He's one of the coolest people I know."

"Come on Manny. We're going. The Anthem is going to start playing."

"But Arroyo!" Manny exclaimed.

"No buts. Come on Manako!" Arroyo shouted. You could tell that Manny was in trouble now. Whenever he was called by his real name, he was bound to be in some form of trouble.

Manny turned to Zeke. "I'm sorry, Zeke."

"It's alright. Go on. I'll see you after the Reaping."

"OK. Good luck. May the odds be in your favor."

"You too."

Zeke watched as his best friend accompanied his brother towards the Square. Sighing, he waited a few minutes before going to the Square himself. In the middle of the Square a perimeter had been set. All the boys and girls had been separated in groups. Then the boys and the girls were separated into smaller subgroups based on age. All the adults and the children who were not eligible were forced into three areas outside of the perimeter. The fourth side was blocked by a wooden stage that had been briefly set up. The stage stood in front of the District's Justice Building. The clock tower read the time was one fifty, only ten more minutes before the Reaping. Beneath the clock was the seal of Panem.

Climbing beneath the roped-off section for the kids who were going to be in the Reaping, Zeke made his way to the thirteen-year-old group boy group. He immediately felt a sense of worry flow in his stomach. Nervousness. That was the feeling that everybody felt from District Three. When this day came, you prayed that you weren't chosen. Unlike the other higher numbered Districts like One, Two, and Four, in District Three, being chosen was a nightmare. It was a death sentence. Most of the ones chosen were small and puny. They said that knowledge was power. It was true, sometimes knowledge could be power. But knowledge never got anyone anywhere if you didn't have a little strength with you. That was reality.

Reality was a nasty piece of crap, but it was reality nonetheless.

As he thought, Zeke tried to see if he could spot Keith. It took him a bit, but he finally spotted him. There was Zeke, amidst a group of fifteen-year-old boys. Zeke had almost missed him because Keith was so skinny. Keith was looking back as well. No doubt trying to pinpoint Zeke's location. In an attempt to help, Zeke waved. He smiled because his attempt was successful, Keith spotted him. He waved back. He mouthed something. Immediately Zeke knew what it was: "May the odds be in your favor." There was nothing much else that could be said today. Not without breaking down into tears and cries anyway.

The Anthem started to play. Ten minutes had passed quicker than Zeke had thought. Quickly, his attention went from his friend and towards the direction of the stage.


	8. Chapter 7: The Reaping of District Three

Chapter Seven

The Reaping of District Three

Ada had just finished checking in when the Anthem had started playing. Her finger still throbbed slightly from when one of the Capitol men pricked her finger with his pen and had tested her blood. She held a cotton ball close to her finger and walked over to the section where the sixteen-year-old girls were grouped. All the girls around her were silent, their eyes looking in the direction of the stage. It was the basic stage for each District. Made out of wood with a podium and table on it. Resting on the table were the two bowls with the girls' names in the one, and the boys' names in the other. There were also four chairs. One for the Escort, one for the Mayor, and the last two were for the past winners of the Hunger Games who were from District Three.

Unlike most of the girls though, Ada's eyes were busy trying to spot Isaac. Her eyes skimmed the crowd, looking for any sign of him. A slight smile appeared on her face when she did. He was standing in the middle of a group of boys, facing the direction of the stage. Yet somehow, perhaps it was their deep connecting friendship that got him to do it, he looked in her direction. She raised her hand towards him, and his eyes lit up when he spotted it. He waved back to her, and smiled, his white teeth flashing. Not many of the girls considered Isaac very handsome, but he wasn't ugly either. He was average. To Ada though, he couldn't be any more perfect.

They had met when they were young, back when he and her were ten years old. They were in grade five together, in the same class. At first, they were both too shy to say anything to one another. Yet fate seemed not very content with that. The teacher had assigned them a project one day which they had to work together on. It was basically just how technology played an important role in the War of the Dark Days. Together, they had managed to get the highest grade in their class, and in the whole year as well, because all of the other classes in their year were doing the same project. Friendship bloomed after that day. And while Ada would move on to become the most successful student and able to finish school early, their friendship still managed to stay strong. In fact, out of all the small friendships she had, her friendship with Isaac was the only one that had remained after she finished school.

And secretly, Ada liked him more than as a friend. He was sweet, kind, loyal, honest. And he was also more outgoing than she was. There were moments where he could be shy too, but he was definitely the more outgoing of the two of them.

One day, she hoped she would be able to tell Isaac that she did like him. More than as a friend. Much more. And hopefully, he would feel the same about her.

She shook herself from these thoughts as the Anthem ended. "Pay attention," she told herself. "This isn't the time to be thinking about your hopes for you and Isaac."

The moment the Anthem had finished, four people stepped onto the stage. The first to come was Pauletta Tang. She was the Escort for District Three. Ada recognized her because she had been doing their District for three years. Pauletta was a short woman with blue hair and rainbow-colored skin. Her eyelashes were each dyed a color of the rainbow as well. Her eyes themselves were slightly slanted upwards. Following her came the mayor to District Three. He was lean, average-sized man with large square glasses. His name was Mayor Base. After Mayor Base came the two past Victors of District Three.

Mayor Base walked over to the podium. Leaning in to the microphone, he said, "Welcome citizens of District Three. I ask that you all remain silent as I tell you the history of how the Hunger Games came to be."

The history was long and rather boring. Ada tuned this part out. Everybody knew it. In fact, Ada was pretty sure she could write every single thing the Mayor said and still be able to add in the right punctuation and even italicize every word that he ever stressed.

When he finally finished, he then introduced the past District Three winners who had won the Games. In the thirty years that the Hunger Games had been happening, District Three so far only had two. Their first Victor was a man named Alexander Phao. He was in his early thirties. He had won the ninth Hunger Games by using special snares that not only tangled somebody when caught, but also sent eight thousand volts of electricity into them. The Tributes who had been caught were completely toasted. It was through this way he had been able to defeat a whole pack of Tributes. The other Victor was a woman who was in her mid-twenties. Her name was Fara Gottin, and she had won the sixteenth Hunger Games. Her strategy was simple, stay away from everybody else. When there were only four opponents left she managed to get them to chase her by exploding their food. Then she jumped into a tree and hid while they scoured the edge of a cliff to find her. When they reached the right spot, she surprised them because she had set dynamite in a small cavern at the bottom of the cliff. When she detonated it, the rock went sailing in the air, killing two of the Tributes when they hit the bottom of the cliff, another hitting a tree so hard his neck snapped, and a girl had been completely crushed by a rock. Ada's parents said that the girl was so flattened by the rock she looked like a 2-D cartoon character.

Mayor Base then turned the attention away from the Careers and onto Pauletta Tang. He stepped away from the podium and Pauletta took his place. Though she was smiling, Pauletta looked like she was annoyed. She always had a look on her face that said she was irritated. Nobody knew why though. It was never revealed. Ada frowned as she gazed at the peacock-like lady. Out of the two Escorts who had helped District Three, Pauletta was the one she disliked most. Then again, Ada didn't really like the Capitol. In fact, she was anti-Capitol. Her stories her Grandfather had told her still buzzed around in her mind, what the Capitol had done to the Districts, what it continued to do. She kept her opinions to herself though. Bad things happened to those who spoke their distastes with the Capitol.

"Hello everyone," Pauletta said in the microphone in her ridiculous Capitol accent. "Happy Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor! It truly has been an honor to be here in District Three. The thirtieth Hunger Games is destined to be the greatest year since the First Quarter Quell. So, without further hesitation, I shall choose our Tributes. To freshen things up, I think instead of the girls, we will start with the boys first."

Ada's eyes widened. That was weird. Usually they started with the girls first. She felt nervousness start to flutter in her. She hoped that Isaac wouldn't be picked. Unlike her family, his was somewhat wealthy, at least to the point where they didn't need tesserae. His odds were much better than hers. It was kind of strange. She was more afraid for Isaac then she was for herself, and she had her name in more times than he did.

Pauletta then left the podium and walked over to the table with the bowls resting on it. She went to the bowl with the boys' names in it. She dug her hand in as deep in the bowl as she possibly could and shuffled. After a few seconds of doing this, she drew a slip of paper and walked back over to the podium. After unfolding it and smoothing it, she said into the microphone, "Our Boy Tribute for this year's Hunger Games will be...Zeke Razy."

The crowd was silent. Some people started to murmur. Yet they all made way for the boy whose name had just been called. From where she stood, Ada could see a boy making his way to the stage. He was a boy about thirteen-years-old, about five feet and seven inches if her calculations were correct. (She was pretty sure they were. She did take the height of one of nearby flagpoles and then used the Pythagorean theorem to help her.) She couldn't make out any further details though.

The boy reached the stage. A Peacekeeper led him up, and then Pauletta led him to the center. For a moment he stood there, stunned. Clearly he had not been expecting to be picked. He also looked frightened. In fact, Ada could make out his slight trembling. She felt bad for the pale-faced, zit-covered, greasy haired boy almost immediately. She knew what it was like to have stage fright, she suffered from it too. Many of the kids when she was in school always made fun of her.

"Would anyone like to volunteer?" Pauletta asked the crowd.

Nobody did. This didn't surprise Ada. Volunteers were mostly common in Districts One and Two. The other Districts rarely had volunteers, even District Four, even though they were considered one of the Career Districts. That poor kid was going to the Capitol. And from the looks of him, he didn't look like he would last long. He definitely gave an air of being more book smart than street smart.

Pauletta sighed when she saw that nobody was going to volunteer. "Alright then, we will move on to the girls." She walked over to the table once more and placed her hand in the bowl with the girls' names in it. She dug her hand deep in the bowl, and then plucked a slip out.

Ada watched as Pauletta made her back to the podium. The whole time, she stood still, waiting patiently. Even now, the fear didn't come. Her name was only in there twenty-four times. A small amount compared to the number of times that other girls' names could be in there. She turned in the direction of Isaac. He was looking in her direction, concern for her plainly seen on his face. She mouthed, "Don't worry. I'm not going to be chosen. I'm twenty-four in thousands."

Pauletta Tang read the name. "Ada Brennan."

The world around Ada crumbled when she heard Pauletta say her name. Time seemed to slow down. She could hear people murmuring, she could people watching her. Slowly, carefully, she made her way to the stage. Her throat went dry. She felt her limbs start to tremble, so she quickly tried to get them under control.

It didn't take her long to reach the stage. Yet the world seemed to go silent around her. She could hear nothing. Not Pauletta greeting her. Not Pauletta asking for volunteers. When none offered, she told the audience to applaud for the Tributes. Ada couldn't even hear that either, but she did obey when Pauletta said told her to shake hands with Zeke.

When she looked into her eyes, she felt a shiver start to run through her. She was going to have to compete against this boy to the death. Not only him, but twenty-two others as well. The boy looked nervous, and she knew she looked the same.

Ada felt sick. Especially because she had had so many dreams for herself. To start a computer company, make computers, live a life. Perhaps even marry Isaac, if he wanted the same thing.

But now. All that was going to be wiped completely away. Cause she was going to the Hunger Games. And more than likely, she would not be coming back.

. . .

Zeke felt sick to his stomach. He was nervous. And he could feel sweat starting to bead up on his forehead. His hands were probably getting sweaty too. He knew his palms sweated when he got nervous.

When he looked at his fellow Tribute, Ada was her name right? Yeah, he was pretty sure that Pauletta said Ada. She looked nervous too. Scared even. No wonder. They were both going to go fight to the death. And more than likely, they were not going to come back.

Zeke knew the odds were definitely not in his favor. He wasn't skilled in anything, he wasn't street smart, and he didn't exactly look like he could win any Sponsors either. He doubted even the Capitol stylists could make him look amazing.

For some reason, memories of past conversations he had with Keith started to play. Conversations involving the unfairness of the Capitol. They never spoke about it in public. But they talked while in Keith's house. They talked how it was unfair they made kids fight to the death just so the Capitol could watch them for entertainment. They had seen their fair share of Tributes dying, District Three's and dozens of others. People being decapitated, their bodies broken, blood, insides spilled, dehydration, starvation, harsh weather conditions. They all took the lives of Tributes.

And now, he, Zeke Razy, a boy with a rough family life and had barely got to live life, was going to be taken to the Capitol. To be flaunted and show-cased. And in the end, to be sent to the Arena. So that people could watch him and others die for entertainment.

Life was a nasty piece of crap, he and Keith had both agreed with that statement. But now, Zeke was realizing just how true those words were.


	9. Chapter 8: Kaye and Mihailo

Chapter Eight

Kaye and Mihailo

Even to this day, he woke up with nightmares. Nightmares which only he could understand. Seeing images that left him wide-eyed, his hair wild, and wild with terror.

Kaye Bennett held her friend Keiro close to her. He sobbed into her shoulder, tears soaking the fabric of the shirt she had hastily pulled on after she had gotten his phone call. Even after hours of doing this, his pain was still raw. Though his cries had managed to lessen. She would never be able to forget his voice whe he had called her. Called her and told her that nightmares were haunting him.

She had been asleep in her bed, when the phone rang. Groggily, she had woke up and pulled herself out of bed. Knowing that nobody else would answer the phone that early in the morning, she walked downstairs to where the phone rested. On the Caller I.D., she had seen that Keiro was calling. His image, along with his number, appearing on the little screen.

"Hello?" she had asked in a tired tone.

"They're after me!" Keiro's scream came on the opposite side of the phone. "Everywhere! Everywhere! Oh my god! Get them away from me!"

"Keiro. Keiro, stay with me. What's wrong?"

"They're after me! After me! All of them! I'm telling you. All of _them_."

Kaye didn't need any further explanation than that. She knew immediately what he was talking about. He had had yet another nightmare. One about his time in the twenty-seventh Hunger Games. It hurt her, hearing her friend suffering. Plagued by nightmares. Nightmares of the people he had killed, the things he had done, and what had also been done to him. She tried to calm him down on the phone. But it was no use. There was nothing her voice could do. So she told him to hang on and she would be at his house in five minutes.

"Hurry Kaye. They want to see me dead."

The chill ran through Kaye's spine as she had hung up the phone. She didn't even bother writing a note telling them where she was going her family that consisted of a mother, father, two brothers and two sisters. They probably knew already. Like her, they had seen what the Games had done to poor Keiro.

It took her only five minutes to jog to Keiro's house, despite her bad ankle, which had been damaged when a fishing spear had accidentally been stabbed into it. Keiro's house was located in District Four's Victor's Village. A place full of the most magnificent houses of District Four. Houses so large that some seemed to dwarf the small shacks that often served as houses for District Four's citizens.

When she had reached Keiro's house, she could hear him screaming on the opposite side of the door. There was a crash somewhere in the house. Without a moment's hesitation she barged inside, the door had not even been locked. That was when she found Keiro, crumbled in a heap on the kitchen floor. His hands pressed against the sides of his head, his eyes squeezed shut, and screaming words that she could barely understand.

Kaye had gotten down on her knees beside him, and did her best to comfort him. She held him close. She ran her hands in soothing circles across his back. She listened to him babble and sob. In some ways, she felt like she was his sister. A sister who was trying to rock her little brother to sleep. Except this child was two years older than her. Two years ago he had been strong and fit. He had been the one who would try to comfort her if she was in pain. He had been the one who looked out for her as if _she_ was his little sister. He had been the one who she could turn to whenever life was rough.

Now, the strong presence his friendship had provided was completely gone. The fort had been breached. Breached by the horrors of the Hunger Games.

Kaye started to come out of her flashback as she heard Keiro start to sniffle. The tears were finally starting to stop shedding. "Come on Keiro," she said. "You got to stop crying now. You won't be of much use to the Tributes this year if you can't stay strong."

Keiro shuttered. "It's hard Kaye. So hard."

Kaye remained silent. She felt completely useless. There was no way she could possibly relate to him. Before the Games, they could talk easily. Their families had always been friends. When Kaye and Keiro were both only ten years old, they had both been secretly trained by Pre-Mentors to prepare for the Games, in case they were ever chosen. They never wanted the glory or the fame. Only Districts One and Two ever wanted to win the Games for those reasons. District Four was different. They only trained because it was the best chance of survival. The Capitol loved Districts who produced kids who had been training to fight in the Games their whole lives. And the more the Capitol liked you, the better advantage the Tributes in your Districts had.

Doing the only other thing she could do, she rubbed her hand in circles on his back. "Shh...," she said. "I can't put myself in your shoes. I've never been there. But please, you got to be strong. Do it for me, please. Come on Keiro. You're one of my best friends. It hurts to see you suffer like this." She felt a slight surge of frustration rush through her. Before she realized it, her bossy side began to take hold. "Come on. Up. Go get a shower and get your best clothes on. You're the youngest Victor that District Four has. You got to look your best."

Keiro stopped sobbing. He removed his head from her shoulder, a couple tears still streaming from his eyes. Tears. Who would have thought she would ever see them flowing freely down his cheeks? In her whole life, she couldn't recall a moment when Keiro ever cried. It was yet another reason why she prayed she would never be chosen to win the Games. "You're right," he said. He looked out the window. "It must be late morning already. And you should probably get ready too."

"Yes. But I will stay here if you like."

Keiro shook his head. "No, it's alright. They only want to kill me in my dreams."

A shudder ran through Kaye. But she didn't argue. Instead, she told Keiro that she would see him after the Reaping. Then they parted.

.

"Alright, Mihailo, let's see how well you do this time. What was the pattern of the images that went before your eyes in order of appearance."

"Ship. Train. Cup. Goose. Bear. Zeppelin. Eagle. Ship. Cup. Train. Rose. Warrior. Phoenix. Horse. Woman. Turtle. Zeppelin. Rock. Backpack. Knife. Spear. Rose. Bear. Rope. Eagle," Mihailo answered.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. That's my final answer."

Mihailo Sullivan was standing in his family's living room, with a helmet over his head. A visor which had a television screen implanted in flashed images before his eyes. Sitting on the couch that stood in front of him were his stepfather and brother. Though he couldn't see, he knew that his half-brother would be sitting on the right side of the couch with a control pad in his hand, choosing the stream of images that would flash before his eyes on the visor. His stepfather would be the one checking off the list of items on his computer pad, making sure he got them all right.

"How did I do?"

"You got them all correct Mihailo. You can take the helmet off now."

Mihailo had the helmet off in a second. He hated the thing. It was hot in there, and he couldn't stand the heat. He had to blink a couple of times in order to get his eyes adjusted to the light, having become adjusted to the darkness that always accompanied the helmet, even with the images flashing before his eyes.

His half-brother, Elliot, set the control panel on the couch where he had been sitting and took the helmet in his hands. A proud smile spread across Mihailo's face. "Ha! I did it! And you said I couldn't!"

Elliot shrugged. "Don't get too cocky. You only got those images all correct at the speed they were going because we've been working on your photogenic memory for nearly four years."

"Four more years than you have," Mihailo pointed out.

"Cool it hothead," his stepfather said teasingly, ruffling his stepson's long, straight dark hair. "Go get ready for the Reaping. We have to leave in an hour. You too Elliot."

Elliot groaned. "I really hate Reaping Day."

"Be glad you aren't actually in it," Mihailo pointed out.

"Still hate it. I mean, it's stupid. The only one who's really getting a kick out of this is the Capitol and Districts One and Two."

"Aren't we one of the Career Districts?"

"Yeah. Only because we want to bring back as many kids as possible. We don't do it for the honor and glory like One and Two do."

"Come on! Let's go!" Mihailo's stepfather commanded.

"Going," both Mihailo and Elliot replied.

0o0o0o0

Twinges of apprehension caused Mihailo to shiver as he climbed into the shower. After choosing the settings, he stood beneath the shower and felt the water pour over him. Taking a bottle of shampoo in his hand, he squeezed some in his palm and started to lather it. When he finished, he took the soap and scrubbed his body from head to toe. This was the First Reaping Ceremony he had ever attended. Better look nice.

When he finished, he wrapped a towel around his waist and then went over to the sink. He looked into his toothbrush cup, and chuckled. _Woops_, he thought as he found the red toothbrush that belonged to his half-brother. He picked it out of his cup and then examined it. He set the toothbrush on the counter in front of him and then selected another. Sometime that morning or the night before he must have taken it from Elliot. He didn't really do it on purpose though, Mihailo did suffer from kleptomania- sudden urges to steal things that didn't belong to him. For years he had been working on trying to overcome it, but no luck.

"_That's not going to be good_," a voice inside him said. "_One of these days, kleptomania is going to bite you in the rear_." Mihailo knew this. Still, it was hard. The urge just came and then he took it. He didn't even recall what he took when it struck, or why he even took it. He just did.

"No matter," he told himself. "That's one of the many reasons why Mom taught me different styles of combat."

He knew his Mom would be there today. Despite her job often demanding that she go to different places across Panem. She got to go beyond the District Fence because she was a hired hit. Even after thirty years, the Capitol still had enemies that it wished to see crushed. Hired hits were called out if assassinations were needed. Or wanted. Yeah, wanted was probably the better term to describe it. And having a Mom who was fluent in different forms of combat was helpful. If he ever got Reaped for the Hunger Games, Mihailo knew he could stand a better chance than some Tributes, despite his size. Add that to his photogenic memory skills, he knew he would be an excellent opponent. Perhaps it would even be enough to get him back home.

However, the fact that his Mom was a hired hit was also a major factor that led to his parents' divorce. Mihailo's actual father was a Peacekeeper who his Mom had married after she had divorced Elliot's father. After they had Mihailo though, they couldn't work out issues, and they divorced. And then she remarried Elliot's father, Mihailo's stepfather.

To some, the situation sounded bizarre. But Mihailo barely noticed it. As far as he was concerned, Elliot was a brother to him. Which technically, he was, a brother from another father anyway.

Once he brushed his teeth, Mihailo went into his bedroom and pulled on a pair of dress pants a blue dress shirt with an aqua blue tie. He also took the time to brush his hair real quick, then finished.

When he left the bathroom, he saw that his stepfather was all ready, wearing a black dress shirt with white tie around his neck. Elliot however, wasn't even out of the bathroom yet. Mihailo raised his eyebrows questioningly. "He hasn't found his toothbrush yet. You know how much he cares about his teeth," was the response.

"Yeah, I think I may know where his toothbrush is."

"Go get it."

Without protest, Mihailo went back in his bathroom and got Elliot's toothbrush. He walked over to the bathroom and knocked on the door. "What?" came his half-brother's frustrated response.

"I have your toothbrush," Mihailo said.

The door opened, revealing Elliot covered waist down in a green towel, from waist up he was completely bare, exposing the tanned muscle that came with working on the fishing boats. There was a sharp frown on his face. "You took it, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Kleptomania."

Elliot snatched it from him. "One of these days-"

"I know. You don't need to tell me twice. Might want to brush your teeth and then get dressed. Then again, I'm sure the ladies would love to see you in a towel at the Reaping."

A smirk spread across Elliot's face. "Maybe. Perhaps Haley will like it."

Elliot closed the door, leaving a huge smirk on Mihailo's face. Haley was a girl about Elliot's age, and Elliot had had his eyes set on her for nearly four years now. They always seemed to be able to flirt easily with each other. But anything beyond that just seemed to make them uncomfortable. Almost as if they were too shy of getting too intimate. It was actually kind of amusing.

Mihailo's stepfather groaned. "Mihailo!" he shouted from the living room. "You go on ahead to the Square. Your Mother will perform his martial moves on me if you don't get down there. Your Father may run me through with a sword too. Elliot and I will catch up."

"Ok. See you at the Reaping."

"Yep. Just in case we don't see each other before the Reaping starts, may the odds be in your favor."

"No worries. I'm twelve-years-old. They'll never pick me. I only have my name in once."


	10. Chapter 9: The Reaping of District Four

**AN: Sorry this was late guys. I was pretty sick all week. I won't even tell you how many boxes of tissues I went through. Or how many different kinds of over-the-counter medication I went through. I'm on an antibiotic now though, and I'm starting to feel better. Hopefully the next update will come sooner.**

**By the way, you should start keeping track of patterns with some of these people. Relationships, experiences, they will all be playing a role as the fic progresses. **

**Oh yeah. I don't own a particular character who is going to be mentioned in this fic. Anyone want to take a guess at who it is? **

Chapter Nine

The Reaping of District Four

Kaye opened the door of her bathroom to find her sister, Sage, leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the hall. She was the youngest girl in their family, and the second to youngest out of all of them. er dark hair was sticking up on end, looking like a bird had made its nest in it. She was glowering, but Kaye brushed it aside. She was use to those kind of looks from her siblings. "About timing you got out of there!" Sage exclaimed.

Kaye squeezed past her sister, gripping the towel along the edge that came just a couple inches abover her breast. Another towel formed a beehive shape on her head. "I wasn't in there that long."

"Yeah you were! I kept track! You were in there for thirty minutes! Between Bronwyn and you, it's amazing we ever have any hot water!"

"Whatever. Go get your shower. We need to be at the Reaping in an hour."

Sage sniffed. "You aren't the boss of me! And don't pull that 'I'm the oldest' card on me! That don't matter."

"Sage! Listen to your sister!" their Mother called from downstairs, still cleaning up the kitchen after breakfast with only the help of Bronwyn, Kaye's other sister. Kaye's two brother's, Kai and Finn, were busy getting ready for the Reaping. Their Father was out walking the family dog, a golden labrador named Jessie whom Kaye loved to pieces.

Sage's mouth dropped. "But I-" she shouted back.

"Now!" exclaimed their Mother.

Sage turned to Kaye, a sharp frown on her face. "You won this round. But one of these days, you won't. You watch." Then slammed the door to the bathroom.

Rolling her eyes, Kaye walked down the hall until she reached her bedroom, which rested on the very end. Though she loved her youngest sister, she could be a pain the neck.

She closed the doors behind her and quickly dressed herself. She chose a sea-green dress, one that was of the same shade as her own. Once she had dressed, she took a brush and combed out all the knots that had started to gather in her way light brown hair which had some natural blond highlights in them from her time spent being out in the sun so much. After that, she checked herself in the mirror to make sure her appearance wasn't lacking in anything. In addition to being the oldest, Kaye was also considered to be the pretty one in the family. Often if she wore a swimsuit that revealed just a little bit of her flat stomach and curvy figure, along with just giving a slight peak of her breast, that the guys would start goggling over her. Their eyeballs jutting so far out of their heads they would nearly fall out.

When she was satisfied, she quickly made her way downstairs and found her Mother and Sister still working on the dishes. It took a half hour at best in order to get most of them done. Especially because of some of the dishes that were often prepared for Kaye's sake. She was a sworn vegetarian, vowing to never eat any meat, fish, or poultry.

"Need any help?" she asked as she made her way into the kitchen.

"We almost got it," her Mother responded. "Did your sister get in the shower?"

"Yes. She's working on it now." She looked around the house, looking for her brothers. "Where did they go?"

"I think they already went down to the Reaping," Bronwyn answered.

Kaye frowned. "I told them not to go without me!" she exclaimed.

"They've been down to the Square before by themselves before," her Mother pointed out.

"Still! It's the Reaping. The Square is going to be packed."

"If you're so worried, why don't you go on down to the Square by yourself?"

"I think I will."

"Be sure you and Kai check in. And stay with Finn until we get down there."

"You know we will."

0o0o0o0

It was only a ten minute walk from their house to the Square. Peacekeepers were marching and taking their places in the Square. As was the usual, camera crews were buzzing around everywhere, catching footage of the Reaping. The Capitol's hovercraft were also flying westward in the direction of the ocean to capture footage of it. The Capitol loved the sea, but it was illegal for Capitol citizens to go to the Districts unless they were Escorts or had jobs that required travel in the Districts. Kaye had seen on TV during her years in watching televised events that the Capitol had special buildings where all they had to do was push a few simple commands and the most amazing beach environment was made, complete with lush palm trees, twinkling white sand, pleasant blue-green water that came with waves and currents, and even animals and plants!

In addition with countless camera crews, there were also countless people in the District Square as well. Like Districts One, Two, Three, Four had a high population. Not only that, but a population that was better fed and better nourished. Kids had full stomachs and were quite physically healthy. In fact, in the Capitol, District Four was known for producing some of the better-looking people. Many porn stars and supermodels had actually been pulled from District Four.

She found her brothers waiting in line to be checked in. Quickly she ran over to them and got in the line. Nobody complained about her budging. Reaping Day was one of the few lines where people actually didn't complain about being cut in front of. It meant a few more seconds beforeyour name wasn't entered in order to be put in the Reaping bowls.

Kaye looked down at her brothers. Their eyes widened as soon as they saw her. She first looked at her brother Kai. He was thirteen years old, the twin brother of Sage. The two of them looked exactly like except for the fact that Sage had longer hair and had curves. She then looked at her other brother. Most of the kids were almost spitting images of their Mother .All except for Finn, the one boy who actually looked like their Father. He had golden-brown hair and green eyes. He was also taller than what most of the kids in their family were, something else he had inherited from his Father."I thought I told you _not _to leave the house unless somebody like Mom or Dad or Bronwyn or I were with you."

"You're not Mom," Finn pointed out.

"Maybe not. But I can put you in a headlock," Kaye pointed out.

"You wouldn't in front of these people," Kai said.

"I would. I'm a Career after all. Nobody would stop me from locking you in one. And I'm sure the Capitol would love to see it."

Both of their eyes widened. They both knew that she was telling the truth. Kaye smiled triumphantly. Being the oldest was tough sometimes, but it always worth it. She turned to Kai. "Did you check in yet?"

"No, not yet. I was just about to when you came."

"Can I just go with the rest of the crowd?" asked Finn. "I'm ten years old so I don't need to be here."

"No, you're staying here until Mom and Dad and everyone else gets here."

Finn sighed but didn't argue. He knew better than to argue with Kaye. She was the oldest, the boss whenever Mom and Dad were not around. And because of her Career training, it would be foolish to oppose.

Fortunately, they didn't have to wait long. The rest of the family soon came to join them. Finn quickly walked over to their Father. When the two of them stood close together, they looked even more alike. "I think I will wait until we are all ready before I come down. Kaye is boring."

Kaye frowned sharply but their Father burst into laughter. It was a strange sound to hear in District Four. Normally people didn't laugh on Reaping Day. They were too busy holding their breath, hoping and praying that they or their children or loved ones would not be picked. Their Father took their Mother's hand in his. Turning to his kids, he said, "Ok. Don't be scared either one of you. There are tons of kids here in District Four. It's not likely any of you will be chosen. But even if you are, that's why you have all been trained."

"You're all bright and you all can hold your own for people your age. Don't be scared. Fear never helped anyone. Understand?"

Kaye and her three younger eligible siblings nodded.

"Good," their Father said. "May the odds be in all of your favor." With that, they made their way to join the crowd that was gathering the roped-off perimeter of the wooden stage temporarily set up in front of the Justice Building.

Once she checked in, Kaye turned to her siblings and said, "Okay everyone. Here we go. Remember what Mom and Dad said. We'll get through this just fine."

"See you all later," Bronwyn said in agreement. The twins nodded, and then the family split up into their mandated groups.

When Kaye joined the rest of the seventeen-year-olds she quickly made her way through the gathering crowd looking for her best girl friend, Seleca. She found her in a clump of other girls that Kaye considered her "friends" as in the fact that they all had similar classes and all met after school for Career Training. Seleca was a needle in a haystack. She was gentle and passive, and didn't like fighting much. Her parents had made her join Career Training, and while she did well in the class, it was clear she didn't like it. Kaye didn't like it much either. Who would want to train so they could learn how to kill kids for fun?It was because of this Seleca and her had become best friends. Especially after a time when some girls were making fun of Seleca for her lack of not-wanting to be a Career. And when Keiro had been in the arena, Seleca had always been there for Kaye as they watched him suffer at the expense of the Capitol on live television.

"Kaye!" Seleca exclaimed as Kaye placed a hand on her shoulder, coming up from behind and nearly sending her out of her sky-blue dress. "Don't scare me like that."

Kaye laughed. "Sorry," she apologized, still grinning. "Come on though. We need to have some fun during the Reaping. Or else it would be like a slaughterhouse here."

"Isn't that basically what the Reaping is though?"

"Technically, yeah. Still. I refuse to let my hatred for the Capitol control me completely."

"Even after what they did to Keiro?" Seleca asked. She leaned in closer. "I heard that he hasn't been doing too well. Wakes up screaming every night because of nightmares. That's what the rumors say."

Kaye nodded. "They're right, but you have to keep quiet. The Capitol doesn't like to reveal the fact that their Victors look defeated. Who knows what would happen to Keiro if they find out."

"They may have already. The Capitol has ways of finding stuff out."

"If they have, they haven't thought it was important. Let's try and keep it up."

Seleca nodded. Music started to play. "Must be the Anthem is playing. The Reaping is about to start." She held Kaye's hand in her's. "I hope I don't get Reaped," she whispered.

"Don't worry. There's thousands of us. The likelihood of us being Reaped is slim, even with us having some of the most slips."

"Keiro was picked."

"Only cause the odds weren't in his favor. Hopefully they're in ours."

. . . . .

It was the same thing every year. Even though Mihailo was twelve and this was his first Reaping, he still knew the routine. The Anthem would play. And then the Escort for District Four would step onto the stage, followed by the Mayor, and then all the past Victors of District Four.

"I really hate Reaping Day," said Mihailo's friend, Daniel. They were the same age, and were alike in almost every single way. They had similar personalities, loved many of the same things, they both had remarkable memories. They both had family members who served on the Peacekeeper force. However, neither of Daniel's parents were not government-hired hits. And Daniel didn't suffer from kleptomania. Also, Daniel was dark-skinned with short dark hair. "Every time they play the Anthem I feel like falling asleep."

Mihailo nodded in agreement. He looked in the direction of the twelve-year-old girls, and saw his friends, Syria and Lilia. Syria was like Mihailo. They both had light tan skin and straight dark hair. However, she was kind of short for her age. Lilia had tan skin and brown eyes and dark hair. He waved in their direction, and they both waved back. Then they both mouthed the same word: "Bored." He chuckled, but quickly hid it. Laughing was not a good thing to do when the Anthem was playing.

The Mayor of District Four, Mayor Tap, a man with curly gray hair and sea-green eyes (a common trait for District Four) retold the history of Panem, how the Dark Days came along, how District Thirteen had been obliterated, and how the Hunger Games came about as a way to serve a reminder how much the Districts owed the Capitol for forgiving them.

Everyone listened as he then introduced the past Victors of District Four. In its entire history, District Four had only three Victors. The first of District Four's Victors was Kevyn Falir. He was a tall man with short brown hair who had won the thirteenth Hunger Games because of his swimming abilities and because of his excellent net traps which he used to capture his opponents in and then speared them. The next Victor was Ming Xu, better known as Mags because she had changed her name after becoming Victor. She was a short woman with dark hair and eyes that were slanted upwards. She had won the fifteenth Hunger Games back when she was fifteen years old. People actually considered her to be the first Career in the history of Hunger Games to had won, because her parents had trained her from an early age to fight. What helped her survive during her Games was not her impressive skills though, but her knowledge of edible fish and her ability to make a hook out of almost any material given to her. After her came Keiro Thoren, a twenty-year-old boy who had won the twenty-seventh Hunger Games. He had been an excellent competitor, the first-ever boy Career in District Four to win. He had killed the District One Boy Tribute he had been working with by stabbing him behind the back, and then went on to kill the Girl Tribute from District Eleven by locking her in a headlock and snapping her neck.

Though District Four had only three Victors in the thirty years there had been Hunger Games, they were three of the most memorable Victors.

When Mayor Tap finished introducing the Victors of the Hunger Games, he then turned the podium over to Bacchus Plurius, the Capitol Escort. He was a round man in his late forties. He had blue dyed skin and violet colored hair. He wore a sparkling violet jacket over a blue shirt and and glittering blue pants. Mihailo thought he looked like someone had attacked him and poured a whole bucket load of sparkling blueberry juice on him. "Greetings District Four!" he roared in his ridiculous Capitol accent. "Happy Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor!"

Bacchus then went on to explain how the Reaping worked, which nearly bored Mihailo to tears. But finally, Bacchus said, "Now then, we will now select our Tributes. As protocol says, we will start with the girls."

Bacchus walked over to table that had been set on the stage. He placed his hand in the bowl with the all the slips with the girls' names. After plucking one out, he made his way back to the podium and unfolded the slip. "Our Girl Tribute for District Four is...Kaye Bennett."

Mihailo watched as a girl about seventeen years old make her way up to the stage. She didn't have a set expression on her face. He could tell instantly she was a Career. They were trained to keep no expression on their faces the day they got Reaped. It was suppose to draw the audience in, to make them want more. He also noticed the look on Keiro Thoren's face when her name was called and she had made her way to the stage. It was quick, barely noticeable, but he had seen it. It was a horrified expression. Almost as if what had just happened had been in one of his worse nightmares. Then again, it probably was. Rumor had been going around saying that Keiro had been suffering from nightmares that had him screaming so loud that people outside of the Victor's Village could hear it. Could it be that some of those nightmares actually involved that girl?

He pushed those thoughts aside though as Bacchus announced that he would be drawing the Boy Tribute. Mihailo watched as he crossed the stage to the table once more, and then fished out a slip from the Boy's Bowl. Nothing to worry about. He only had his name in once. Out of the thousands of slips, he was only one.

His mouth dropped when Bacchus read the name. "Mihailo Sullivan."

Slowly, Mihailo made his way up to the stage. Like the rest of the twelve-year-olds he had been placed in the back of the gathered eligible children. The walk seemed longer than it already was as he felt his pulse race. Kids murmured as he passed. He could hear some of the adults murmuring to each other as well. He could feel the pity washing over him, nearly knocking him off his feet. Nobody liked it whenever a twelve-year-old had been picked. But nobody ever volunteered in District Four. They were a Career District, but a reluctant one. Only daring to train their children so that they may have a chance to come out of the arena. Nothing more.

As he walked, Mihailo saw his friends stand in shock and horror. He also caught the eyes of his family, who were standing off to the left of the perimeter. He could see his stepfather and half-brother, sorrow written on their faces. He could also see his mother, Kira Sullivan, standing. There was sorrow written on her face. Just a half hour ago, she had been beaming and smiling. After spending nearly three weeks away in the Capitol, she had just come home with her paycheck for taking out one of President Snow's rivals. The mood had been happy again, as it always was whenever his Mom had gotten home from a mission.

Now, that mood was gone.

He reached the stage, and he saw that his father standing there. As a Peacekeeper, it was his job to serve as security detail for all the people on the stage. There was a sad expression on his face. Mihailo tried to smile, in hopes it would get his Dad smile, but it wouldn't come.

"_Smile as soon as you get on stage_," a voice inside him said. "_You're going to be the Boy Tribute for District Four_. _Show some confidence_."

When he was finally on the stage, he stood on the right side of Bacchus Plurius. The Girl Tribute, Kaye Bennett, stood on his left. Bacchus smiled brilliantly and exclaimed, "District Four, I give you this year's Tributes! Let's give them all a round of applause." This was the final chance for Volunteers to come, but none did. Fate had been sealed.

After the applause was finished, Mihailo and Kaye had shook hands. Then the Mayor stepped forward to read the Treaty of Treason.

Mihailo felt sick to his stomach. He had tempted fate. All the talk about not being picked because he was twelve didn't please fate. And when fate wasn't pleased, it had a cruel way of showing it. By some bizarre twist, despite the odds being in his favor, fate had made it so he would be picked.

A gnawing feeling started to eat away in the pit of his stomach, and deep down, Mihailo knew that he was not going to be coming out of the arena alive.


	11. Chapter 10: The Reaping of District Five

**AN: By the way, some of the info I give in this chapter doesn't contradict with the info I gave you in previous chapters. I mention in this chapter that in all of the Districts besides the Career Districts, the Reaping is a nightmare. But in the previous chapter before, I mentioned that District Four had been a reluctant Career District. This is to help show how little info the other Districts have of one another. **

**And the proper way to say Pavanot is pav-_anne_-no. Not pav-_ann_-ot. **

**I know I mentioned somebody crossing themselves and somebody saying Yahweh in this fic. Let understand that this fic's aim is not be spiritual or evangelical or anything like that. I just like world developing. And world developing includes mentioning spiritual beliefs or practices at times. I am not promoting, demoting, or anything of the sort. I'm just trying to add more depth to the story. Please, don't get uncomfortable. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to PM me and I'll respond to them when I can. **

Chapter Ten

The Reaping of District Five

Aden North gazed at his surroundings. District Five was loud and busy as usual, but now the place looked like a beehive or the inside of an anthill. People of various sizes, shapes, colors, and backgrounds were all making their way to the Square. Parents held screaming babies in their arms. Little kids were herded in the direction of the Square by their parents. On top of that, the hovercraft from the Capitol flew overhead getting footage from a bird's-eye view while other camera crews were busy preparing by setting up the cameras. Various Capitol reporters were busy adjusting their wigs and hair and making sure their makeup was perfect. Others were reading over the scripts that they had been issued, making sure they had the words memorized by heart.

While all this was going on, a strong wind blew from the north, bringing in a dash of cool air to District Five. The breeze was actually quite welcoming. It was in this way District Five was lucky. In most Districts, the workers got the day off so they could attend the Reaping and so they could celebrate. Because of that missed day though, they had to make up for lost work time. Not District Five though. District Five was the provider of Panem's energy and science. All power, including solar, hydroelectric, wind, and nuclear were still able to be collected. Nature was a worker who didn't like to take a day off, even when the humans who were forced to harness her power did.

From where he stood, Aden could see mile after mile of wind-farms. In the distance about ten miles away, stationed in a valley far from human settlement was a nuclear power-plant. Many of the major facilities where the scientists went to work had solar-paneled roofs, providing energy and also serving as an asset to studying how to better tame the energy given by the sun.

The sight of the wind farms, nuclear power plants, and solar panels was what he woke up to every day. Many in the District woke up to see the same thing every day, along with crowded towns with thousands of people. But Aden didn't care. He actually liked waking up every day to see the same sight day after day. It meant that he had survived yet another night. For nine years, he had been doing the same thing. Ever since the community home had been shut down because there were too many people to take care of and not enough money to run it. A new one had been built which had been doing somewhat better. But it had taken three years before one could have been constructed that fit the needs and requirements. By then, Aden had learned to survive on his own. Living off of anything that the higher income earning families threw out. He didn't need a community home to care for him. There was probably someone else out there who needed it more. The people living in his community didn't mind much either. They loved him. Many of their children played with him, and many people loved it when he played music on the street corner. He had an old guitar that he had found in the garbage and had managed to fix it.

'The boy plays as if he were an angel from Above,' he had heard one man describe his music one day while he had been picking out of garbage cans outside of a bakery. 'He played so well I even offered him to come live with my family. But he wouldn't. Said he liked the streets. Yahweh only knows why.'

This was true. Aden didn't mind living on the streets. He actually had taken residence in a little wooden hut in the middle of one of the town's allies that he had built himself. Sure it meant a bit of a struggle at times, trying to find food and shelter. And there was the problem of keeping clean. But other than that, he loved it. He had never had a need for a family. He had been orphaned when he was a baby. No one even knew who his parents were. The people at the community home just found him wrapped in swaddling cloths with a note saying to call him Aden North. Whether it was his last name or not, nobody knew. No Norths registered in the system. So the last name stuck.

Anyway, Aden knew that deep down, the whole community was his family. Not only were they friendly, but there was a large variety as well. People of different colors, backgrounds, shapes, and sizes. It brought enrichment to his life. They fascinated him. And it was this fascination that had driven him to perform many different songs talking about how much he loved it.

Checking in for the Reaping was simple and easy. After a quick prick from his finger, he went and joined the other boys his age in the thirteen-year-old boy section. He didn't have to worry about family worrying about him or anything. And he had plenty of friends. Despite being homeless, he still went to school. Physical education was one of his favorite classes, mostly because it was what he excelled in. Especially on the monkey bars and in the obstacle courses. Many said he had agility rivaling that of a monkey. That was one of the many things that had been keeping him alive aside for his ability to play music. Despite the friendliness of many community members, there were some that still got mad whenever he sneaked and took stuff from their cans. And on occasion, people from the community home had been sent to retrieve him. But he always managed to evade them. It was arrogant to think so high of his skills, but Aden didn't care.

Another thing that had been keeping him alive was the tesserae. Even with eating all the food that nobody ate, there was still a need for grain, and the oil helped too. That was another reason why people had to sign in. So the Capitol could keep track of which kids had taken tesserae. Even with tesserae, Aden knew his name wasn't in that many times. Only four if his math was correct. Out of thousands of slips, it was a small number. Still, he knew better than to think he would never be picked. Living on the street taught him that fate didn't like being degraded. Degrading of fate's power equaled a kick in the rear end and possibly, in the most severest cases, death.

"Are you nervous Aden?" asked Jonah, one of the thirteen-year-old boys who Aden had become a particular friend to."

"Who isn't nervous today?" Aden asked sarcastically. Seriously, shouldn't it be common sense he was nervous? That was the common feeling throughout all District Five.

Jonah nodded in agreement. In District Five, like most of the Districts, getting reaped was a nightmare. People broke down into tears. Families shut their doors and windows so they could weep in private. Pitiful glances were given. Nobody ever cheered, unless you lived in one of the Career Districts. "I hope none of us get chosen."

"Me too Jonah. Me too."

. . . . .

It had taken forever, but Allura Swan and her brother, Lucas, had finally manged to get their mother into the Square. Their mother had a blank expression on her face. It was clear that though she was there physically, she was not there mentally. Her mind was trapped in the back of her head, unable to get out. Too busy being sad and depressed in order to do anything, even speak to her children when they talked to her. Allura had to force her to get out of bed and even had to dress her mother herself. Which enraged, annoyed, and saddened Allura even more. She had to even make sure her mother brushed her curly dark hair decently.

Why? Why couldn't she snap out of her depression. It had been going on for months. Allura had been keeping track. Precisely six months had passed since that fateful day. The day when her father had been hung in the middle of the Square in front of all of District Five to see. Six months since that cloudy day when Allura and her father and brother had went down to the open-air market in order to pick up some groceries. Six months since the day when three Peacekeepers attacked two women who had been in the market as well, buying some lettuce and other vegetables. Even after six months, she could see the images flashing through her mind. She and her father and brother had been picking out some tomatoes when the Peacekeepers walked over to the two women. They were short, round women who had completely covered their entire bodies in cloth except for their faces which were the color of ash. They even wore a head-scarf which didn't reveal a single strand of their hair. When the Peacekeepers came over, they started making fun of the women, making rude comments about the way they dressed. Then they went on to hassling the women, yanking their baskets from their hands, dumping the groceries they had picked out onto the ground. Made the women pick them up again, and then knocked the baskets out of their hands once they had gotten the groceries back in. Then they went on to shoving the women to the ground, and every time they tried to get back up, shoved them back down and spat in their faces!

This had upset the Swan family. Very often, the Peacekeepers loved to hassle people who were different from them. Once when they were at the bakery, a couple Peacekeepers came in and made fun of a group of dark-skinned people and the rainbow-colored robes they wore. Another time, a Peacekeeper had pushed a little red-skinned boy down and hit him a couple times in the sole of his back with the rear of his rifle. Most of the Peacekeepers in District Five were either a paper-color or a soft bronze. Whereas District Five had a wide diversity of people. It didn't matter what color you were, it upset nearly all the citizens in the District whenever the Peacekeepers would target specific groups. There was little anybody could do or were willing to do though. You had to be careful. If you stood up for the people who were being hurt, you would be arrested and possibly executed.

That's exactly what had happened to Allura's father. The moment he saw those women being messed with, he decided for once he was going to do something about it. Before Allura or Lucas could stop him, he went and punched the one Peacekeeper in the nose. The other he punched squarely in the gut. Things just went from there. Allura and Lucas watched helplessly as their father took on the Peacekeepers alone, nobody coming to help. Lucas was seventeen years old at the time, and had a decent build on him, even for someone in District Five- where those with sharp, calculating minds were the best fit. He had thought about going to help, but Allura had refused. She didn't want to be left alone. The women had wisely cleared out, knowing that if the fight was being fought on their account they would be punished. And as for the others, they all either just stopped and stared or went on with their shopping. As if the brawl in the produce section was the ordinary.

Their father had held himself up well. But after a few minutes, he was quickly overcome. The one Peacekeeper had a broken nose, the other a busted jaw. The other had a black-eye that literally seemed to shine. Allura's father definitely looked the worse. He had plenty of bruises on his face, had taken a blow to the stomach, and his one arm was probably broken.

And it was after that the Peacekeepers pulled him out of the market and made him stand on a wooden block with a noose around his neck. They didn't give him a trial, no jury, no nothing. Instead they made sure that everyone in the Square was watching. Made sure that he was looking in the direction of his children. They made sure that Allura and Lucas had been looking. They had even dragged their mother out of the house where she had been sweeping and made her watch as her husband stood one moment with life in his body, and the next his body dangling, lifeless, his neck being snapped like Allura had sometimes seen the butchers do to the chickens, except instead of a hand it was a rope tied into a loop.

Allura and Lucas checked in, and when they finished, they returned to their mother. She had not even moved an inch from her spot. Just staring off into space. When they looked in the direction she had been looking, they could just see a young couple holding the other's hand, a small bulge in the woman's stomach. Quickly Allura turned her mother away from the scene. Her mother didn't need memories of her husband being taken from her life after spending twenty years together.

A groan escaped Allura. "What are we going to do with her?" she asked. "We can't leave her here. She won't go into the group by herself. And the Peacekeepers won't be gentle with her." Though at the moment she wished she could be harsh toward her mother. Release the anger and resentment that had been building up in her heart for six months.

"Let's just wait a few moments, the Anthem hasn't even started playing yet," Lucas said. "Somebody will probably come along and help her."

Sure enough, somebody did. She was a round woman with flowing red hair and freckles that speckled her nose and beneath her eyes. Her blue-gray eyes were warm and tender. Allura smiled in greeting, but it was Lucas who said, "Hey Emily." Even though they both knew Emily Patterson, it was Lucas who definitely had a closer relationship with her. Her son was friends with him, and in the days since their mother had fallen into depression, he had come to see her as a mother-figure of sorts as well.

Emily smiled. "Happy Hunger Games you two," she said. Though she had said it in a somewhat happy tone, if you listened closely you could hear the resentment. It was clear she did not think the Hunger Games were a happy occasion.

"How are you doing?" Lucas asked.

"Fine," she said. "I'm just heading to the Square right now. Only a few more minutes before the Anthem plays and the Reaping starts. George and Kyle are signing in right now. So they should be in with the rest soon. I take it that's where you're heading to as well."

"We would be," said Allura. She placed a hand on her mother's arm. Her mother didn't even react. Just continued to stare off into space. "But we can't leave her here. The Peacekeepers will take advantage of her vulnerability." She made no effort in hiding the bitterness in her tone.

Emily nodded her head in understanding. "Here, why don't you two let me lead her over? You go on ahead to your groups."

Lucas smiled. "Thanks Emily," he said.

Emily nodded, and said, "You're welcome." Then without a second to spare, she gently started leading Allura's and Lucas' mother to the section where all the adults had to wait. She was whispering to their mother, talking and even laughing. Trying to get their mother to react to anything she heard or saw.

"Good luck with that," Allura muttered even though she knew Emily Patterson couldn't hear her.

Lucas frowned. "Allura, why are you being so bitter towards Mom?"

"Cause she deserves it! She won't respond to us or talk to us or even do anything for us! I had to pry her out of bed this morning."

"Are you just mad that you had to shower her?"

"Don't even go there."

"I'm sorry. But still. You have to stop. Mom can't help the fact that she's in depression. You know how much Dad meant to her."

"He meant a lot to all of us. Yet you and I are still moving on with life. Why can't she do the same?"

"Some things happen that some people aren't prepared for."

"Uh-huh. Whatever. I'm still mad at her."

Lucas sighed. "I know how you are Allura. I know you won't back down from what you believe, so I won't even bother giving you a speech."

"You're right about that."

"Still. I just wish you will try to at least forgive her. Will you at least try? For me if you won't do it for yourself? I'm tired of waking up every day seeing my sister all depressed."

Allura sighed and rolled her eyes. She hated when her brother did this. He knew that if he did, she couldn't refuse. She loved him too much. "Fine. I'll try. That's the best I can offer."

Lucas nodded. He clearly understood he wouldn't get any more from his sister. It was better than a couple minutes ago though. "Good. I'll see you at the end of the Reaping. May the odds be in your favor."

Allura nodded. "May the odds be in your favor too."

"I'm eighteen years old, I doubt they are in my favor, even if I didn't take the tesserae. You should be somewhat good. You're only fifteen."

"Yeah. Hopefully neither of us get reaped." The thought of being reaped was scary to Allura. She had lost her father, and had practically lost her mother. The thought of her own brother being taken into the Arena frightened her to bits too. It frightened her even more than the thought of her own self being reaped to be sent to the Games.

After a quick embrace, they split up. Lucas went over to his section. Allura went over to her section. It took about five minutes, but eventually the Anthem started playing. All eyes stared straight ahead at the direction of the stage with the podium, the table with the two reaping bowls filled with slips, and the chairs on it. Peacekeepers stood guard in front of the stage, but not standing on it. A soft breeze called the flag of Panem to flutter. Everyone was completely silent.

Once the Anthem had finished, Allura focused her eyes to stage. People were climbing up it. The first to climb up it was District Five's Escort. Her eyes widened when she saw it was a woman with neon green hair and light green powder on her face and hands. She wore a neon green dress to match the hair, and a black scarf around her neck to balance the stunning color. In all her years of watching the Games, Allura had never seen her before. Clearly she must have been a newbie. The old Escort for District Five was Remus Harrison. Even though she could have cared less about him, Allura still had to wonder what happened to him. He probably got bumped up a District or something. After the woman came another woman, the mayor of District Five. She was an average-sized woman with skin that was a light brown color and her hair-which was tied in a ponytail in a special braid-was dark except for a few strands of gray. She had a red dot in the middle of her forehead. She was the mayor of District Five, Mayor Haryana. After her came another man and a woman, who were the past Victors of District Five.

While the Escort and the past Victors sat down, Mayor Haryana stepped up to the stage. Allura looked about at the girls around her, and she could see the jealousy in the eyes of the children who either had a similar skin color to the Mayor or or had a different color that wasn't white. Unlike the rest of them, she never had to worry about her children going to school or her family going into the market and having Peacekeepers attacking them. Peacekeepers would never touch the family of a Mayor unless given direct orders from the Capitol. Mayor Haryana could probably sense it too, because she had to clear her throat. "Welcome everyone," she said into the microphone. "I ask that you all remain silent as tell the history of Panem and how the Hunger Games came to be."

The telling of the history of Panem was long and boring. So Allura just tuned it out until she heard the words, "Now I will introduce you to the past Victors of District Five."

In the years there had been Hunger Games, only two Victors had ever come from District Five. The first one was Javier Lopez. He was brawny man with dark hair and tan skin. He had won the seventeenth Hunger Games by staying out of the way of the other Tributes, taking small bits and pieces of food from their piles so that they wouldn't notice it was gone. Then when the final showdown came, he won by managing to kick the District Two tribute out of the tree they were in to the hungry muttations- genetically altered animals that the Capitol sometimes used as weapons or as a way to bring entertainment to the Capitol during the Games. The muttations that particular year were hungry jungle cats with razor claws and fangs, and they had managed to tree Javier and the last Tribute. The muttations had torn the District Two Tribute to shreds. Perhaps what made Javier most famous though was because of what happened in the Reaping itself: he had volunteered to replace his twelve-year-old brother who had been reaped. The other Victor was a red-haired girl with pale skin named Farette Max. Like Javier, she had managed to win her Games by staying out of the way of the other Tributes. However, instead of it being a final two showdown in her Games, there was a massive earthquake that struck when there were only ten Tributes left. Out of the five that survived the quake, only Farette could manage to make any use of finding food in the arena and the others had starved to death or had killed one another off in hopes of getting any remaining food.

After she got done introducing the past Victors of District Five, Mayor Haryana turned over the podium to the new Escort, whose name turned out to be Lucia Pavanot. Lucia smiled brilliantly and said, "Welcome and Happy Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor! I'm just so excited because this is my first year as Escort." She was practically vibrating with excitement as she babbled, which nearly drove Allura crazy. But she felt a queasy feeling in her stomach when Lucia finally stopped talking and announced, "Without any further hesitation we shall move on to selecting our Tributes. As protocol says, we will start with the girls first."

Allura took in a deep breath as did the rest of the girls around her. In fact, she was pretty sure everyone was holding their breath right now. Some were holding one another's hands. Others were busy clasping their hands together, probably whispering prayer or something. All Allura could do was just sit back and watch. Hoping that even though her name was in three times she wouldn't be picked.

Lucia placed her hand in the bowl with the Girls' names in it and dug through the bowl, sifting through the slips. When she finally pulled one out, she made her way back to the podium. A wide smile on her face. "And this year's female Tribute is..."

"Don't be me," Allura whispered to herself. "Please don't be me."

"Allura Swan."

. . . . .

Aden watched as the girl that had been chosen from the Reaping bowl stepped onto the stage. She was a short girl for her age, only about a couple inches over five feet. Her eyes were a brown color and her hair was dark and curly. Her skin was a soft bronze color. He recognized her almost instantly. He had seen her on the streets sometimes, mostly in the market. She was Allura Swan. She lived in the more wealthier parts of the community, and she was very involved in the community as well. He had seen her go to the community home sometimes to help out there. And he had also been there when her father had been executed for defending a couple of women that three Peacekeeper had been attacking in the market. Pity swam through him. Her creativity might help her last longer than some Tributes, but he doubted that she would survive the arena. Not many Tributes in Five did. The two Victors up on the stage proved that.

A round of applause was given to Allura, and then Lucia went on to say that she would move on to choose the Boy Tribute. Aden heard the others hold their breath. Just like over in the girl section, many were whispering prayers or were trying to give reassuring gestures. Next to him, he could see that Jonah was using his index and thumb to touch his forehead, breast, and then his right shoulder and left shoulder. And then he was folding his hands and praying. Aden did none of these things. Like many people in District Five and possibly in Panem, he didn't practice religion. In fact, religion was kind of frowned on in the Capitol, even though it was considered a freedom as long as the people put the country first before it. Besides, he grew up on the streets. He knew little about gods or other forces that may or may not have created the world.

After shuffling her hand through the slips, Lucia walked back over to the podium. She unfolded it, and smoothed it. Aden felt his heartbeat quicken, but he wasn't awfully worried. His name was only in four times.

"Aden North," Lucia read.

The first thing Aden felt was horror. His eyes widened in shock a few seconds later. As he made his way through the crowd of boys, many of them started to murmur. He could hear whispers of "poor kid" or "dang, the poor never get lucky do they?" Many of the kids were frowning sadly. They had grown up with Aden even though he wasn't necessarily like them.

When he reached the stage, Aden looked at the crowd. Many of them bore disappointed or pitying looks. Others were expressionless. There were a couple who looked pleased. They were most likely the ones who didn't like it when he stole from their trash bins. Or didn't like the fact that their children loved to hang out with a poverty-stricken child.

This didn't phase Aden though. Let them hate him. They were going to anyway whether he liked it or not. Right now, he had more important things to worry about. Even though he knew the likelihood of him coming out alive of the Arena was slim, he still wanted to make it out. He liked living, even if his life had mostly been in poverty. And he knew also that if he won, he would be rich and be able to live in the Victor's Village. Considering the things he had experienced, he knew he was better off than most Tributes. They would be struggling to survive in the environment. He could probably do well. Not having been reliant on full meals or having been raised in comfortable homes with beds would come in handy. Add that to his agility and his tactful brain and his gift with words, perhaps he could survive.

Fate didn't like it when people were arrogant. But as Aden shook hands with Allura and the Mayor read the Treaty of Treason, he couldn't help but feel confidence sweeping through him. The confidence continued to grow as the Anthem played.

Judging by what he knew so far, he figured that he may actually stand a chance.


	12. Chapter 11: The Reaping of District Six

**AN: Yes, I know there are now two characters in this fic named Monica. Don't worry. You'll be able to tell them apart.**

Chapter Eleven

The Reaping of District Six

June Erbe checked herself in the mirror. The light touch of makeup she had applied to her pale skin was even. Her light brown hair was wrapped in a ponytail and her bangs were brushed from her forehead evenly, just revealing the faint traces of auburn that naturally appeared in her hair. After that she inspected her dress, a pale blue one that came down to her ankles. She wore a pair of light blue dress shoes as well. It wasn't the kind of clothing she would have preferred to have worn. Honestly she thought she looked better in a summer green color or maybe a rich violet. It took all of her resolve to force on the dress she was wearing now. And even now she was doing her best to hide the grimace from her mother as she made her way to the living area in their house. The dress was originally her mother's, you could tell by the way the fabric had been stitched and the way it was designed. Time of not being worn hadn't helped matters much, but compared to some dresses, June knew it wasn't too bad. So perhaps things weren't so bad. Still, she was more accustomed to being more choosier.

Her mother had a sad smile on her face as she made her way out of her own room. Her mother was wearing a soft purple dress of a similar design to June's. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail as well, and there was some faint traces of evened out makeup on her face as well. "You look beautiful, June," her mother said.

"Thanks Mother," June said, still trying to keep the smile on her face. "You look nice as well."

The smile slowly etched away from her mother's face. She walked over and gently hugged her, wrapping her arms around her tightly. June wrapped her arms around her in return. She could feel her mother rest her chin on her shoulders. Together they just stood there in silence, not saying anything. Just stood there in the warm embrace of one another, a special kind that seemed to exist only between mother and daughter.

Finally, her mother lifted her chin off of her shoulders and looked June gently in the eyes. "You can be honest with me, June. I know you don't like my dresses."

June's eyes widened. She had been doing her best in hiding the fact that she didn't like her mother's dresses. She'd been doing it for the past couple of years. Ever since her father had been killed in that one accident in the hovercraft manufacturing factory accident. Her mother and her were alone, and only had a job as a secretary for one of the factory's owners. They had to cut some things out of their budget, including the need for new dresses on occasion amongst other things, but they had managed to scrape by. To make up for the lack of good clothes for June to wear, her mother had provided some of her own clothes as hand-me-downs. Which weren't the most flattering things that June thought ever met the eye, but apparently they fit the style nicely for District Six back when her mother was her age, which was fifteen. "How did you-"

Her mother chuckled lightly. As if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Come on June," she said. "I'm your mother. I practically know everything about you. I know things about you that you don't think I know. For instance, I know for a fact that when you lie and are trying to sneak something by me, you manage to disguise your face perfectly, but your tone, yes, your tone just rises up a notch."

"No it doesn't!" June exclaimed. "And I didn't lie when I said I liked the dress when you first brought it out!" That's when she could hear it too, the slight rise in her tone, now as she was lying. "_Dang it_," she thought. "_She's right_."

Her mother chuckled again. Patting June's cheek softly, she said, "I appreciate you trying to spare my feelings, baby. I would rather you come clean and be honest with me though. Remember, honesty is the best policy. Besides, that doesn't seem to stop you when you're with your friends or you're in any other situation."

It was true. Though she usually a little more cautious around her mother, June had a bit of a loud mouth. There didn't seem to be a filter between her mind and her mouth. If it appeared in her thoughts, it was more than likely going to burst out of her mouth at some point. The same went for her actions too. Once she had heard a couple of her girl classmates whispering behind her, and she immediately thought that they were talking about her. She confronted the two girls about it, calling them a bunch of nasty names and everything. It turned out that the girls weren't really talking about her. They were just whispering about a surprise party that was going to be held for another girl in their class. It was kind of humiliating, yet it hadn't taught her lesson. June doubt anything would. She was naturally loud-mouthed and quick to act. Penalties could be paid later.

"I guess I just have a great respect for you Mom." That was the honest truth. Even if she did question her Mom's fashion choices in her day, June still respected her mother greatly. They had become real close since the day her father died.

"That's good. But still. I don't want you to feel all miserable because you can't state your opinion about certain things. The Capitol does that enough to us." Out of the few freedoms that the citizens of Panem had, speech was definitely not one of them. Speaking about your hatred for the Capitol could result in many different varieties of punishment, with the quickest being instant death. That was only if you were lucky. "Okay?"

June smiled. "Okay."

"Good. Let's get down to the Square. The Reaping will be taking place in about an hour."

"Oh the fun," June said sarcastically.

Her mother smiled. "Come on, we can't let today get to us. Life will always be miserable if we do. The Reaping and the Hunger Games won't leave us, not anytime soon I believe. We will just have to make the best with what we have. Like we always do."

"Like when Dad died?"

The happiness that had been sparkling in her mother's eyes seemed to die slightly. Even after three years, the absence of June's father was still a little hard to deal with. But they had gotten through it. Her mother, instead of burying herself in grief, decided to make the most of it. June had followed her example, deciding to help her other family members by babysitting her younger cousins in return for money payment. Which her family members were all too eager to give in exchange for her services. It had been rough at first, but in the end, everything worked out. "Yes," her mother said after a pause, a sad smile on her face, "just like when Dad died."

.

It was kind of annoying have to be at the Reaping before anyone else.

Thomas Morgan stood in the designated spot established for the rest of the sixteen-year-olds. His arms were crossed in front of his chest. An irritated expression written clearly on his face. All around him he could hear the people from the Capitol getting their stupid cameras ready. Checking to make sure that their hair was perfect. Or that their faces had enough makeup. The only thing around to keep him from focusing on his annoyance was that surprisingly, there were a couple of other kids who had arrived around the same time he had. They were from the more wealthier parts of District Six, so they were more likely to be based towards the Square. From the looks on their faces, he could tell they were getting tired of the Capitol fussing over trifle issues. If they were so worried about their appearance, they shouldn't have bothered getting jobs that involved traveling and having to work with heavy equipment. Simple as that.

From where he stood Thomas could see his brother and sister, Lana and Callum, waiting in the established area for the crowd members that were not eligible to be in the Reaping. Lana was eleven years old, with tan skin and light brown hair, just like their mother had. Only one more year before she would be entered in the Reaping. The thought didn't sit well with Thomas, but he tried not to think about it. Everyone had to go through it, his family was no exception. His brother Callum stood next to her. He was only ten years old, but he already was nearly a good head taller than Lana. He shared many of the same traits as Thomas. They both had straight dark brown hair, tan skin, green eyes. What was perhaps most unique were their heights. For his age, Callum was quite tall. And Thomas himself was about six feet and five inches tall and over two hundred eighty pounds, much of which was muscle. Brimming with muscle and power. A trait that they had inherited from their father, who was about six feet and seven inches. Thomas could lift weights that were over three hundred pounds, and throw weight balls that were nearly just as heavy at distances nearly fifty yards away. On top of that, he was also skillful with a sword and machete.

If anybody in District Six had known how deadly Thomas was, it wouldn't have surprised them. Being so strong and skillful in such weapons was probably a gift handed down from his parents. Both of whom were the only Victors that District Six had. But nobody knew that. Nobody knew that secretly, Thomas had been training for the Hunger Games. Training ahead of time was considered illegal. There were supposedly consequences for people who did it, even though many in the upper Districts went ahead anyway and broke the rules.

Thomas had been training since he was ten years old, from the moment his mother first handed him a sword while they were in one of the many private rooms of their house, which stood in the Victor's village. In her own hand, Thomas' mother had held a sword, and he could remember the words that would initiate the next intense years of physical training. "The Capitol gets a kick if the children of a past Victor is reaped into the Hunger Games. They'll get more than that if a child of _two _Victors is reaped. To make sure you have the best chance of coming out, you're going to be training for nearly every single day of your life until after your last year of Reaping. Whether you like it or not."

It had been excruciatingly painful at times. On top of the weapons lessons, he also had to start weightlifting. And running. Tons of running. He could remember the first month of running he had to do, his legs felt like they were on fire all the time. There were plenty of times when he thought it was stupid. But he never protested. Just did it. Clearly his parents thought they were doing him a favor. And he knew they were too. So rather than backing out, he took it. And in the process, he had become a powerhouse. One that could just possibly be a match for those morons in the Career Districts.

There was a tap on Thomas' shoulder, he turned to find one of his friends, Monica Gerales, behind him. She was a tall girl for her age, yet he still seemed to dwarf her whenever he stood by her. As he did with the rest of his friends. After Monica came her cousin, Andre Recales. They looked pretty similar, even though they were only cousins. Almost as if they shared a common parent. They both had reddish tinted skin with black hair and dark eyes. After Monica and Andre, there was Valeria Compare. She was a blond haired girl with a couple of freckles on her neck. And after her came Steve Becomers. He had red hair and his skin was about as white as a ghost, but he had a fiery temper and his strength was amazing even though he had never trained in case he got selected for the Games like Thomas did. Steve got his muscles from lifting heavy car parts all the time, his family being mechanics and he had to do most of the lifting because his father had hurt his back and his mother was unable to lift the loads. All of them were sixteen years old. Apart from that, in terms of physical appearance, they were really nothing alike. Personality wise, they were all perfect fits.

"I hate Reaping Day," Valeria muttered. "I hate having to travel all the way from the other side of the District just to come here."

"You're telling me," said Steve. "At least you don't have to drag along two screaming younger brothers who don't have anything better to do than trying to rip each others' heads off."

"I thought they quit doing that after you slammed their heads together," Andre said questioningly, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

Thomas smirked. "Head bashing only does so much. Believe me, I tried doing it once when my brother and sister were fighting. It only lasted a month before they started at it again."

"One of the many reasons why I'm glad to be an only child," Valeria said.

Nearly an hour passed, and soon the Square was packed with people. According to the little information that the Capitol was willing to divulge, District Six was one of the smallest Districts area-wise in comparison to the lower Districts, with only higher Districts- such as One and Two- having the smallest areas. Yet District Six also had one of the greatest population densities in all of Panem. And there were tons of people of different backgrounds and colors. Yet District Six wasn't known for its cultural diversity. Everyone went to work wearing the same uniforms, students usually wore uniforms when they went to school, and even the architecture of District Six was the same. District Six basically had nothing but block-shaped concrete buildings with windows on the outside. On the inside, many buildings had either equipment that performed various different tasks or were used as storage units to keep various backup materials. The homes that people lived in were basically block-shaped and made of concrete as well, except usually they had some plants on the windowsills and some shutters in order to liven them up just a tiny bit. To provide some color to the very gray-looking District.

The Anthem started to play, and Thomas turned his attention to the stage that had been set up before the Justice Building. He could see from the corners of his eyes that the citizens of District Six were all doing the same. Once it finished, as the procedure was throughout the Reaping, the District Escort took the stage. For the past ten years, District Six had had Apollo Lyre as their Escort. Compared to most of the District Escorts and other Capitol officials and interviewers and other media workers who were sent out across Panem, Apollo was somewhat normal-looking. He had bronze-colored skin and a square face. His face looked like it had just been freshly shaved. However, he did wear frilly-looking dress clothes, which were a neon orange, and he wore an orange wig and had on orange eyeliner. He was different than the usual sights of District Six, but he wasn't exotic compared to most of the Capitol. Following Apollo Lyre came the Mayor of District Six, who was a stoutly built, gray haired man with brown eyes named Mayor Fordland. And finally came the past Victors of District Six.

When the Anthem finished playing, Mayor Fordland walked up to the front of the stage and stood at the podium. He then welcomed everyone to the Reaping. After that he went on and told the history of Panem: the wars and droughts and such that brought about its existence, the Dark Days, District Thirteen being annihilated, establishment of the Hunger Games, etc.

After that, Mayor Fordland then went on to introduce the past Victors of District Six. In the past thirty years there had been Hunger Games, District Six only had two. And both of them were of course, Thomas' parents. Thomas' father, Peter Morgan, was the winner of the fifth Hunger Games. He had won because of his large size and impressive build. At nearly six feet, seven inches tall and having over two hundred eighty pounds of muscle, he was able to pick up heavy objects and used this ability to help him win. He had been nicknamed "Sampson" because when he was in the final eight, he found the jawbone of dead donkey in the arena- which had been a scorching desert with very little water that year and thus there were plenty of skeletons- he went and tracked down all of his opponents and killed every single one of them by using the jawbone, just like Sampson had done in the Bible. After him was Thomas' mother, Virna Metro. (Though she had married Thomas' father, she had decided to keep her maiden name.) She had won the seventh Hunger Games by a variety of methods. She had first made an alliance with two other Tributes: the first being the boy Tribute from her District, and the other was the girl Tribute from District Eight. They managed to last a week by using their resourcefulness to help one another out. The girl from Eight got bit by a rattlesnake on her heel though, and it killed her instantly. Then after four more days, the boy Tribute from her District had died when the District Eleven boy Tribute that year sneaked into their camp and replaced blueberries with nightlock, which poisoned and killed the District Six boy when the juice hit his stomach. But Virna avenged her District partner by killing the District Eleven boy. And after that, she only had four opponents. So she tracked them all down and killed them using a sword she found, and thus winning the Games.

To be related to just one of those Tributes would have been considered a great honor in the Career Districts. Even though Peter Morgan and Virna Metro weren't from the upper Districts or even Careers because there weren't any at the time, the Careers still highly respected them. And in a way, all of the Districts respected them too. Though Thomas and his family didn't consider it an honor that they were a family who had two Hunger Games Victors, they would not deny that there was a sense of pride there. Pride that despite all odds, they had managed rise above them to become champions.

After the Mayor finished introducing the past Victors, he then handed the stage over to Apollo Lyre. Casually and cool-like, Apollo stepped up to the podium. When he reached it though, his manner combusted, his nature taking on manner that seemed to match his clothing. "Happy Hunger Games District Six!" he shouted. "It's an honor to be here. Not only is it an honor to select the children for the Reaping, but it's an honor to bring color to your very.." he paused as he tried to think of a word to describe Six, "...uncolored District."

"_Way to be subtle_," Thomas thought. He knew from what his parents told him that Apollo Lyre wasn't always the most subtle person in the world. Then again, he wasn't bad as others. There were some that could be worse.

Apollo continued. "Without further ado, I shall select the names for this year's Reaping. We will start with the girls first." Then Apollo walked over to the table that had the bowls on it. Both of the bowls filled with slips of paper. One for the girls. One for the boys. Standard throughout all Districts. Thomas watched as Apollo placed his hand in the bowl with the girls' slips in it. After shuffling about a bit, he took a slip out, and walked back over to the podium. Once he had unfolded it and smoothed it out so he could read it better, he said, "And this year's Girl Tribute for District Six is...June Erbe!"

.

June felt her heart crumble into tiny pieces and start to collect on the bottom of her chest. A gulp ran down her throat. She made her way up to the stage, feeling her stomach begin to churn badly. It wasn't because she had stage fright, she never had stage fright in her whole life. It was the fact that she had been selected, out of all the thousands of slips, to be this year's Girl Tribute. Of course, she had known that taking tesserae meant that she would be at greater risk. Still, the reality that she would be chosen was one that she never thought she would have to face.

But yet, here she was. Standing in front of a crowd in front of all of District Six. Eyes staring at her. From the corner of her eye, she thought she could just see her mother and her aunt, uncle, and cousins. Their mouths were opened in horror. Back in the crowd with all the eligible children for Reaping in it, June saw her friends. David stood in complete disbelief. He was a short but well muscled boy who was June's age with short-cut blond hair. He was also one of June's best friends who was a guy. Next to him stood another one of her friends, Chuck, who had curly blond hair and glasses, though he was quite strong as well. He was standing there in surprise as well. There was also Mary Lou-a dark skinned girl about a year older than June with her hair in a ponytail- looked like she was about to faint. There was also Charolette, a skinny girl with glasses and freckles, who had her red hair in a bun, was busy trying to hold a distraught Autumn up. Autumn was June's best friend, they had been friends since they were eight years old. Ever since the day when June accidentally forgot to bring in her lunch and Autumn offered an apple and a couple of pieces of crackers. Back then, they had barely known each other. Now they practically knew everything about one another's lives, closer in friendship than many, and perhaps they shared a bond that was even tighter than a bond between sisters.

Now, all that was going to be destroyed. Because the odds weren't in June's favor, and she was going to be sent into an arena where she was more than likely going to be killed.

There were no volunteers, of course, District Six wasn't a District known for its volunteers, which were mostly next to zero. So Apollo moved on to the Boys. After rummaging around in the bowl, Apollo pulled out a name and walked back to the podium. June was so busy thinking about her predicament that she barely caught anything Apollo said until he said the boy's name. "Thomas Morgan."

Complete silence fell on the crowd. Then surprised murmurs began to flow, in them you could hear the shock, disbelief, and pity. June could feel it wash over her too. She knew that name. Though she surprisingly didn't see its owner until Thomas Morgan stood beside her on the stage. He was a very tall boy, just like his father, a past Victor of the Hunger Games. He was also well muscled, and could have definitely taken down both David and Chuck. She didn't know Thomas personally, but he was only a year ahead of her in school, so she had seen him on occasion. She felt a lump run down her throat as Apollo made her shake hands with him. Both of his parents were Victors. While she couldn't help but feel bad for him- after all he was the son of two Victors and now he was going to be in the arena- she couldn't help but also think about how lucky he was. It was the job of the past Victors to mentor the Tributes for their District. They were going to want their son to come out of the Arena alive, so no doubt they were going to help him more than her.

June knew that the odds were definitely not in her favor.


	13. Chapter 12: District Seven's Reaping

Chapter Twelve

The Reaping of District Seven

Sauveir Estante stood in the living room and held his arms out wide. His older brother, Nelseir, was laying on the couch with his leg resting on one of the arms and his back against the other. Boredom was clearly written on his brother's expression. "Hey, Nelseir, how do I look?" Sauveir asked him.

His brother eyed him critically. His face contorted in features of disdain and displeasure, as if being bored was even better than checking to see if his younger brother looked presentable to the public. On Reaping Day, it was essential to look your best. No one in the Capitol wanted to see people who looked like they didn't bathe or shower or didn't have anything decent to wear. Plus, secretly, everyone knew it was because that if they didn't look their best, the Capitol may start to question the motives of the leaders who led them. And questions could lead to rebellion. So needless to say, those who didn't look somewhat decent after the Reaping usually had a date with the Peacekeepers. A date that would probably leave them a few lifelong memories to go along with it. Mostly scars. "You look like an animal who just crawled out of the forest," his brother said.

Sauveir frowned. He knew he may need some improvement on his appearance, but he didn't think he looked that bad. His older brother had just said that clearly out of spite. All because more girls seemed to be attracted to him. It was stupid in Sauveir's eyes. For a moment he wanted to point out that his brother was being spiteful, but the sharp glare he received silenced that. Inwardly he sighed. Even if his brother hadn't glared at him, he knew he wouldn't have spoken up about it anyway. Speaking up was never one of his strong suits. "Okay," he said casually, "what can I do to make myself look better?"

Nelseir shrugged his shoulders. "Falling out of a very tall tree and getting a concussion. Or jumping off of a cliff would be nice. Whichever you prefer. I hope you choose the cliff. Less chance of survival."

"That will be enough Nelseir!" exclaimed a voice from the kitchen. The two brothers turned and saw their mother and father coming out of the kitchen and entering the living room. Their mother was frowning fiercely at Nelseir, and glaring at him as if in a few moments she would take her wooden spoon she often used for making flapjacks and start swatting him with it. Not that their parents were abusive. Quite far from it actually. Their parents were actually two of the most loving people in all the world, or at least in District Seven at least. Only using the spoon whenever the boys got out of line and when diplomacy didn't work. Their mother was a slightly round woman with full cheeks and plenty of freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks. Often she kept her wavy brown hair in a taut bun in order to keep it from getting in the way when she worked. Their father was a light-brown skinned man of average height and build. The muscles in his arms were developed from years of working in the lumberyards, cutting down trees, which was District Seven's principal industry; along with making paper products. His hair, which was often unkempt, had been brushed neatly by more than likely their mother. The scraggly brown-gray beard on his chin and face was gone as well. Reaping Day was one of the few days when their father would actually take the time to shave the beard. People of District Seven didn't really care about facial hair for guys, it was pretty much the norm. Though supposedly in the Capitol, right now freshly-shaved faces were in style. In many ways, Sauveir closely resembled his father. Aside for the fact that he didn't have a mole on the side of his neck like his father did. Unlike their mother, their father didn't really seem to have a fixed expression on his face. A passive man by nature, he let their mother hand out the punishments. He was the one who went to work every day and brought in the pay.

Their mother placed her hands on her hips, and gave her infamous foot-tapping, the thing she usually did whenever she was displeased with something. "Nelseir, you apologize to your brother. He's done no wrong to you. All he asked for was your opinion."

"Right," said Nelseir defensively. "And that's what I gave him."

"You don't need to tell him to go and fall out of trees," she scorned. "Or off cliffs. I'll have none of that in my house."

Sauveir knew this would go on forever between his mother and brother. And they didn't really have a lot of time. The Reaping was at two, and it was already ten minutes past one. It took a good forty minutes to get to the Square and sign in. District Seven was known for it's great, vast hinterland. Having been located in a great forested area that once use to be a part of a place called Montana. District Seven was one of the largest Districts, yet it had one of the lowest population densities. Because the hinterland was so vast, many small lumberyards and tree farms had been established, and with those tree farms and lumberyards small communities sprouted up. Most of the District's population lived in a town that was towards the center of the District though. So it was in that town's square that people went to on the day of the Reaping. The railroad trains which often carried the lumber and paper supplies to the Capitol had their cars changed for coaches, so they could carry the various spread out inhabitants to the town. A five hour walk by the way the crow flew turned only into a forty minute trip if one went by train. That was only if you took the train though. And if you weren't at the Square by the time the Reaping started, you had better be at death's door or else you were going to be pretty close to it when the Peacekeepers came. To prevent their journey being further delayed, he said, "Mom, it's fine. We can do this later. How do I look?"

"Like you usually do. Very handsome," his mom said, patting his cheek. "Though your hair could use a quick brushing too."

"We'll do it on the train," Sauveir's father said. "Come on, let's go."

"Ugh," groaned Nelseir. "I don't want to go."

"Unless you want to be taken to the Justice Building, I suggest you get moving Nelseir."

"Whatever."

It was only a ten minute walk from their house to the small train station which normally took lumber and paper supplies, yet when they arrived, they were just able to climb on board. The conductor was about to rope off the small flight of steps that led up to the platform of the coach when they arrived. "Cutting it kind of close aren't we?" she asked them.

Sauveir couldn't help but smile. "Not as close as letting Skivey the Scalper cut your hair." Skivey was actually the barber in the small town that Sauveir and his family lived in. He was notorious for cutting hair so short that some actually said that once he took off somebody's scalp. But it was only a rumor. Supposedly.

The Conductor chuckled, no doubt she knew who Skivey was, having lived in the town herself. Like the Peacekeepers, Conductors were sent to the various Districts in order to serve on the trains- living full time in the Districts until the Capitol decided to replace them with someone else or until they had served the number of years required for being a Conductor (which was about fifteen). A smile graced her lips, which seemed to never smile. Sauveir didn't know the Conductor personally, none of his family members did. But he had seen her sometimes in the market, always buying some food or some little collectables. Once, he recalled she had actually bought a little pine tree sapling and said she planned on mailing it to her friend in the Capitol so he could grow it in their garden which they had on the roof of their house there. That had been another one of those few moments too. "Well, I guess that's true," she said. "All of you on board. Don't want any of you being left behind." She held out her hand and helped each one of the Estantes climb onto the train.

Once he had thanked the Conductor, Sauveir made his way into the coach. He could see it was was nearly full with practically all the members of their small town inside it. While his mother fussed over his shaggy dark hair, he looked to see what seats were available. Despite the number of passengers, the seats were pretty accommodating, and his eyes lit up when he saw that there was room in one of the seats beside his best friend, Dex Fletcher. He looked to his parents for permission first. With their assent, he walked over towards the front of the car and stood in the middle of the aisle. "Is this spot taken?" he asked.

Dex had been looking out the window when he had asked this. He turned his head away from it and faced Sauveir. A smile lit up his face, which had been freshly saved. Dex was nineteen years old, but had had the ability to grow a beard since he was thirteen years old. Many would have thought that a nineteen year old wouldn't want to be caught seen in public hanging out with a fifteen year old like Sauveir, but it never bothered him in the least. In fact, Dex had even admitted that most of his friends were at least a couple of or a few years younger than him. "Nope, not taken here," he said, smiling.

As Sauveir took a seat, the person in the seat in front of them turned around. She was a blond haired girl who had tanned skin. As was common for many people in District Seven, she had freckles that sprinkled her nose and there were a couple on her neck. Though she was considered one of the pretty ones in her class (which only consisted of thirty girls max and that was with a couple of ages mixed) she could get down in the dirt and fell a few trees by herself. Her name was Gemity Blanchet, and though she was a year younger than him, they were still pretty close."Oh so you don't say hi to me?" she asked in a tone of mock offense.

Sauveir chuckled. "It was a generic 'hi.' All sundry are welcome to partake."

Gemity raised an eyebrow. Turning to Dex, she asked, "what does sundry mean?"

"Not a clue," was Dex's answer.

Before Sauveir could answer, the Conductor -who had made her way to the front of the coach- gave a few quick announcements. Assured everyone that all payments for riding the train to the town could be paid after the return journey. And that if anyone in the car ended up having a child going to the Hunger Games, they would have a discount, which was not having to pay for the person who had been Reaped. With that said, she thanked everyone for riding, and hoped they would enjoy their time in the Center Town. After that she left the car, making her way over to the next one in the direction of the engine.

"So we have to pay to go to a place in order to watch or partake in an event that means potential death for twenty-three kids? Isn't that peachy?" Dex asked.

Both Sauveir and Gemity shrugged. It was kind of stupid. Why should you pay to be possibly killed? But there was little that could be done about it. So instead, turned to Sauveir. "So what does sundry mean?"

"Means diverseness; it can also mean collectively or individually, which was the way I meant to use it in that sentence."

"Ugh. I knew it! Eileen really did rub off you! Now you're using big words too!"

"Gemity!" exclaimed Dex furiously.

She quickly realized her mistake. An apologetic expression appeared on her face. "I'm sorry Estante. I forgot that-"

Sauveir waved his hand though, in an attempt to brush the subject aside. "It's alright guys. I've been doing much better than I have been in the past year."

"Still. I apologize. I forgot that it's only been a year. The pain must still be a little rough. I can't imagine ever losing someone I loved that closely."

The one that Gemity was referring to was Sauveir's former girlfriend, Eileen Motors. An image of her flashed through his mind. One that would forever be carved in, for he had no wish to forget her. He could see her long, beautiful dark hair tied up in a ponytail so that the strands wouldn't get in her beautiful brown eyes. Her nose and upper forehead were speckled with freckles, but Sauveir didn't care. He had loved every single one of them. He always use to joke along with Eileen that whenever he kissed her forehead, her freckles would miss having his lips on them. But they would have to wait patiently so her lips could have their fair share. She was fun-loving and kind, and loved to go in the woods. Many people in Seven saw trees as what they were- trees. Nothing special about them other than the fact that they provided your paycheck. But that didn't seem influence Eileen at all. She loved to walk in the woods when the work hours were over. Admiring the view of the trees and the animals that lived in them. She could probably have lived in a tree. She was very limber and she was an excellent climber, having learned to when she was younger. Many of their friends often liked to joke, saying that she was so much like a squirrel, a squirrel probably wouldn't mind sharing a tree with her.

Ironically, it had been a tree that had killed her in the first place.

Sauveir could still remember the day clearly. Every detail fresh and vivid. A shudder ran through him as he remembered one day they had been walking through the woods after the shifts of the lumberjacks had ended. They were walking through a zone that had a few trees cut down. Unlike in the old days, where the people use to clear whole forests, a method called selective cutting was used. Trees that were older or in danger of falling were chosen to be used as lumber. Leaving the best trees to keep living, that way they would be able to continue help the forest thrive. Whether it had been fate or chance, Sauveir didn't know or care. But he could recall that Eileen wanted to take a break from walking so she could rest and listen to the Mockingjays. There was a stream about thirty yards away, so he had gone to soak his feet for a bit. A light wind had been blowing at the time, and the next thing he heard was a sudden and hideous crack. It was a sound he and anyone who grew up in District Seven knew all too well. A tree had fallen down. But what came next was not what he had expected. There was a scream and a cry of agony, and he knew then that it belonged to Eileen. As quickly as it had came though, it faded out. He ran back over to where he had last seen her sitting, and that was when he saw the heavy tree on top of her body, and the arm sticking out from under it, the only thing that had managed not to get crushed. A few men who were getting off their shift late had heard the sound and ran over as fast as they could, but it was too late. She was gone. No longer able to laugh or smile or to whistle to the Mockingjays. No more climbing trees like a squirrel.

At first, he had wanted to blame himself. Why hadn't he stayed with her? Or asked her to come join him? Surely then she would have survived. But he quickly brushed those thoughts aside after thinking them for a day. It was pointless blaming himself, especially because he had no control over it. People outside of District Seven may have blamed nature and would have hated it for what had happened. Truth was, nature was not at fault. When you lived in Seven, you learned that quickly. Nature wasn't in control. Things happened. When they did, you had to either sit and mope or you had to keep moving on in life. Citizens of Seven wer culturally down-to-earth people. In some ways, just like nature. One moment peaceful and calm. The next moment, they could be roaring with fury if upset.

After Eileen's death, it had been rough trying to find the strength and will to keep going on some days. In many ways, Sauveir had seen Eileen as his wife. Many even believed that- had she not been killed- they would have married after school. So it was not surprising that he had sunk into depression which lasted for over three months. In those months, he barely ate anything, and hardly ever left the house, even for school. Eventually though, he came to the realization that being sad for what had happened to Eileen all the time would not be doing her or him any favors. He had to keep going, for her sake as well as his. And for others as well. Sauveir hated looking depressed in front of others. They always started to worry, and he didn't want them to worry about him. Some days, the pain still caused his heart to throb, as if it had taken a heavy blow and there was a huge, pulsing bruise on it. Other days, it felt like it was a dam about to burst from all the times he tried to hold the depression back. But no matter what, he had to keep strong. Which- with Nelseir's mission to always degrade him all the time - was tough on many days. Still. Life was well worth living. He had even moved on to dating other girls again. They usually didn't last more than a few weeks or months though. For some reason, he couldn't find one that could ever give him the same feeling that Eileen had.

He didn't know how long he had been lost in thought, but he knew it had to be some time. He felt Dex elbow him in the ribs roughly, knocking him out of them. "Ow! What?" he asked his friend, gingerly rubbing his ribs.

"We've arrived at the Center Town."

. . . . .

Venus Lance got out of the line once she had checked in for the Reaping. Beside her stood her thirteen year old sister, Arizona, who had also just finished checking in. For a few minutes the two girls stood and watched as the residents of District Seven started to slowly pool into the Square. Churning out of the coaches of the trains that had come. The cameras were everywhere, and Peacekeepers marched and drilled off to the side. If you counted the Peacekeepers as people living in District Seven, even then only about seventeen thousand people lived here. Out of all of the middle Districts- the official term given to those who lived in Districts Five through Eight- it was the least diverse in its inhabitants. Most of the people shared the same common traits. Either light- brown skin and dark hair, or fair skin with blond hair. Those who lived towards the outer parts of Seven had the light brown skin and dark hair. The people of the outer towns also had homes that tended to nearly either come crashing down on them or were basically shacks with only fortified walls. That was what Venus' father's house was like. The walls were fortified, but the rest was falling apart. It was amazing how despite their living circumstances at times, their father managed to rake in enough money to help pay for food. It was probably alimony that their mother had to pay every year since the divorce finalized. Those who lived in the Center Town- whose Square always served as the place for the Reaping when the one day came and in which throughout the rest of the year- it was just the center of the District, the place where the more wealthier citizens of Seven lived. The people here had blond hair and pale blue eyes usually. And on weekends, it was at the Sqaure Venus and her younger sisters, Arizona, eight year old Phoenix, and five year old Magnolia lived with their mother. Throughout the rest of the week, they stayed with their father, who worked as a lumberjack in one of the outermost edge towns in District Seven. A town that was very close to the fence which served as a barrier between Seven and lands that were unknown.

She spotted her mother in the crowd of people who were not eligible to be at the Reaping. As usual, she appeared spacey and distant. Even though she was suppose to be watching over Phoenix and Magnolia, she didn't seem to be really there. Her mind was no doubt in other places. Probably thinking about how unfortunate her life had been. How even though she had been born to a wealthy family she never was happy with money. How she had done pretty well in school yet found no satisfaction in it. How she had fallen in love with a man and had two daughters with him. Then afterwards getting married to the man, and having two more daughters together. And how she was still unhappy and left so that she may search and find it in the place where she had originally said there was none there for her. It annoyed Venus beyond belief how blind her mother was, and it hurt even more because her mother had proven that she was willing to do almost anything to pursue her happiness. Even if it meant leaving her family and ripping the foundations of that family to shreds. The divorce had been quick, having been all filed within a month, but even after a year it still brought misery just thinking about it.

Couple that with the fact that Venus was beyond annoyance that her mother was zoning out, thinking about her search for happiness, on a day she ought to be focusing on her daughters. Both the ones whose names were in the Reaping Bowl, and the ones who were currently standing beside her, the one clinging onto her dress as if afraid she might lose her mother in the crowd. Or worse, losing her again. If Venus could have seen her father in the crowd, she would have walked over to her sisters, taken them away from their mother, and took them over to him to watch. But she couldn't find him. And it was probably best that her sisters stay with their mother, being alone in the crowd would only be worse. Even if their mother wasn't the greatest of improvements to the situation.

"I'm going to head on over to my section," Venus heard Arizona say to her.

"Ok. Go on ahead. I'll be over in my section in a few minutes." Venus was seventeen years old, so she would be joining the seventeen-year-olds. While Arizona went to join the other thirteen-year-olds, Venus continued to watch her mother and her little sisters from where she stood. After watching them for a few minutes, she decided that they would be fine. So she then went to join the other seventeen-year-old girls. There were many of them that she didn't know, faces she had only seen on Reaping Days. But there were also a few girls she did recognize. These girls were her "friends." Meaning, they hung out, talked, laughed together, took part in various after-school activities and may have visited one another's house on occasion for slumber parties when they were younger. But really, they weren't her friends. At least, Venus didn't see them as such. Apparently, after the Mayor's Daughter, she was one of the most popular girls in school. She didn't see quite how exactly, perhaps it was her rugged demeanor and her humorous air. Rugged was an obvious. Venus would be the first to admit she was a tomboy. She played field hockey and other sports. And she could probably take down a few people too- both girls and boys. In a way, perhaps she was funny too. Except her kind of funny was dripping with sarcasm. When her father had asked her about why she was so sarcastic all the time, she asked him, "If you hung out with a group of people who are basically nothing but airheads, and you're one of the few of that group that actually has a brain about them, wouldn't you be sarcastic too?"

"Sarcasm is the body's natural defense against stupidity?" he asked.

"Exactly."

There was only one person who she could really call her friend. And that was Aurora Pailey. She was like most of the girls who lived in the Center Town. She had pale blue eyes and blond hair -which had been tied in a bun, and she had a couple of clips in her hair to help keep her bangs out of her eyes. Venus had pale blue eyes, but that was about it. She had not inherited many qualities from her mother. She was more like her father. She had dark hair and slightly brown skin. And she had seemed to inherit his hard-working and caring nature as well. Either that or she had just spent so much time with him that that was the way she had come out. (It was more likely the latter.) Once the two girls had said hello, their eyes immediately focused on a train that had just pulled into the station and was dropping people off. One of the other girls said, "Must be that group who are the furthest west in District Seven."

Venus rolled her eyes. "No, really. I thought they were Capitol citizens. That hair and clothing is like the latest trend in the Capitol. They woke up one day and said, 'Look we're going to try actually looking human instead of walking around like circus clowns all the time!'" The girl frowned furiously and turned away. They could already hear her telling her friends about how Venus had mocked her and used sarcasm. There would be hell to pay later. But it felt good at the time. She turned to Aurora. "Isn't this around the time when you usually scold me, telling me that while my sarcasm is funny sometimes, other times it just hurts?"

"Would it do anything if I did?"

"Yes, I'll change so much I may end up becoming a girl who collects dandelions and weaves them in her hair. Then sing to birds and they sing back to me and everything!" Venus said sarcastically.

"I'll take that as a no."

"Smart girl."

"What's wrong Venus? I can tell you're upset. You're usually never this sarcastic. Usually."

"Well I'm sure everyone feels giddy on Reaping Day," Venus said sarcastically.

"The Careers usually are."

"I wasn't thinking about them, and I was being sarcastic."

"I know."

"So why did you respond?"

"Cause I felt like it."

"You're not raining on my parade by countering my sarcasm," Venus again said sarcastically.

"That was kind of the point."

Venus couldn't help but smile. "You're good Aurora."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"Yes, yes it was," Venus replied sarcastically.

"Okay, now I know it wasn't. See, that is what happens when you use sarcasm too much. People can't tell when you're being serious or not."

"Well I'm sure humans have brains that are capable enough to decipher my sarcastic remarks."

"I'm sure they can."

"Yeah, after all we figured out that death wasn't a very fun form of entertainment," Venus replied sarcastically.

"Many of us haven't figured that out yet."

"Oh really? Well then, mankind's doomed." That time, both of them knew that that wasn't sarcasm.

The two girls broke out into laughter. As they did though, the Anthem started to play. All eyes turned in the direction of the stage. The stragglers who had just got finished checking in were making their way to their respective groups. Once the Anthem finished playing, four people started making their way onto the stage. The first person to come onto the stage was Mayor Birch, a short man with blond hair and blue eyes, and a nose that was kind of pointed. (Venus knew that the Mayor's daughter must have gotten her nose from her father, both of their noses looked slightly like beaks, except the Mayor's daughter's nose wasn't as obvious.) After him came District Seven's Escort to the Capitol, Etrusca Barling. Etrusca was a tall man with a lot of muscle build on him. There wasn't evidence of a lot of self-alteration on him, aside for some bronze lipstick. (Which, Venus thought but wasn't willing to admit, was actually kind of attractive.) Supposedly he had even won the Capitol's "Sexiest Man Alive" award last year. Venus recalled watching something like it on the news. Apparently he was also a heart breaker as well. His marriages never lasted more than a few months, if he was lucky. Her mother, who followed Etrusca Barling's achievements on the television like a giggling teenage girl with a star-crush, had heard that there was a rumor saying that his most recent marriage had only lasted for a day.

"Wow, he's nothing like you at all," Venus had said to her mother in order to get her to shut up. It had been successful. Her mother made no argument in her own defense. Clearly she knew it was true.

Once the Victors had followed Etrusca Barling onto the stage, the Mayor made his way over to the podium. After thanking everyone for coming to the Reaping (like they all had had a choice), he then went on to tell the long and rather dull history of how war had torn a place called North America to shreds and how Panem rose in its place over the barbarianism that followed and blah blah blah rebellion blah blah blah Treaty of Treason ending it and setting up Hunger Games blah blah blah. Basically same old thing over and over again.

After the Mayor had finished telling the history, he then introduced the past Victors of District Seven. In the past years that there had been Hunger Games, District Seven only had two. The first had been Nelly Wellton, who had won the second Hunger Games when she was fourteen years old. She had blond hair and light blue eyes. You would think that that would have spelled her doom, people who came from the Center Town were usually better fed and not use to being hungry. Nor did they have any real skill in weapons, like axes. But nevertheless she had won, and had done it by hiding in trees for most of her Games. Waited for the others to pick one another off. When she was in the final three, she revealed her skill, apparently she was quite resourceful. She fashioned a spear out of a tree branch and used it to kill the final two Tributes. The other winner was Alan Saxon, who had won the nineteenth Hunger Games. He had come from one of the outer towns, and had been wielding axes since he was five years old. He had been at an advantage when he first entered the arena that had been for his Games, for it was basically a tropical island with shark-mutt infested waters. Yet after the Careers had gone to hunt down victims on the seventh day in the arena, he sneaked into their camp and took an axe from their pile of weapons. The tide of the Games quickly turned in his favor as he used it to kill four of the seven final Tributes left. (The other two had been ripped to shreds by the shark mutts when the Careers chased them off a cliff and they fell into the ocean.) Needless to say, it was mainly because of his axe skill that Alan Saxon had managed to win the Games.

The Mayor finished introducing the past Victors and turned over the podium to Etrusca. Etrusca stepped up to it, and when he stood, there was a fangirl scream coming from the crowd. At first Venus felt herself flush. Did her mother really just scream like a little girl when she saw a celebrity? She quickly realized it wasn't. It was one of the Capitol women on one of the camera crews. Venus saw her from where she stood. A woman with an acid-yellow wig and sky blue eyeliner on her eyes. She was turning a bright red with embarrassment, and was making an effort to conceal herself in the background. Which was kind of hard, considering she was the one holding the camera.

Everyone turned their attention away from the woman as Etrusca spoke. The incident with the woman shrieking in delight at his appearance seemed to roll off his shoulders easily. Venus figured it was because he was use to it. "Welcome everyone. Happy Hunger Games! Without further ado, we shall begin the Reaping. As usual, ladies first."

That was probably one of the few things that people in District Seven liked about Etrusca. He wasn't one for dramatics. He just simply wanted to get the Reaping over and done with. No dramatics. Saving the bantering and going right for the throat of the beast.

All eyes went to Etrusca as he slipped his hand into the bowl with the Girls' names. There were a couple thousand slips in there. Still, for her father, she had taken tesserae. Even with alimony, he still struggled to make ends meet at times. Arizona had taken tesserae as well. Aurora would be safe, she was a Center Town girl. They had money, no need to worry about taking tesserae in order to get grain and oil. The only thing they could hope for was that neither one of them would be picked.

Etrusca had only dug his hand into the bowl for a few quick seconds and selected a slip. Then with the slip in hand, he walked back over to read the name. This was it. This was the moment where a girl's fate would be sealed. Their hopes dashed as they realized that they would be in the Hunger Games, and more than likely, not be coming back.

She felt like the earth had crumbled beneath her feet when she heard Etrusca say the name of the girl, "Venus Lance."

"Fate isn't a rear wipe," she muttered sarcastically to herself as she made her way up to the stage. "Oh no, not at all."

. . . . .

Etrusca Barling only allowed a few moments so that the audience could clap for the girl who had been selected. _This was probably one of the few good things about Eileen being dead_, Sauveir had thought. _No longer having to worry about the possibility of being Reaped again_. As Sauveir looked up at the girl on the stage, her face a mixture of disbelief and anger, he couldn't help but feel bad for her. She seemed somewhat nice. He had seen her from the corner of his eye a couple of times while the Anthem and the history recap were being done, and he thought that she actually looked kind of pretty. She was a couple of years older than him. Not as beautiful as Eileen either, but very pretty nevertheless. Shame she was going to the arena to be slaughtered. (He had a feeling that she may not be coming out.)

Etrusca had been serving as District Seven's Escort for five years. He knew better than to even bother asking for any volunteers. District Seven wasn't too big on it. So instead he announced he would then be drawing the Boy Tribute for this year. Without any dramatics or things of that sort, he walked over to the Boys' Bowl and placed hand in it, only digging around a second before coming up with a slip. To help provide his family with grain and oil, Sauveir had taken tesserae. Still, he didn't believe he was at a real risk of being picked. He was only about twelve slips in nearly over a thousand.

Once Etrusca returned to the podium, he read the name of the boy who was going to be District's Seven boy Tribute. "Sauveir Estante."

Disbelief fell heavily on Sauveir. But he remembered he couldn't do that. It would send people worrying, and he didn't want them to worry. Instead, he forced a confident and even somewhat cocky expression on his face. As he made his way up to the stage, he actually did start to feel confident. The weight- which felt like he was being crushed by a tree a few moments ago- seemed to be going away.

Standing before the crowd, he could see the looks on their faces. Many of them were looking at him with pity. His friends, who were all separated into their respective groups except for Dex -who was in the non-eligible section- were looking at him with fear and concern. He could make out his mother's facial expression, complete horror. He could see that his father was stunned as well. Clearly, his father had never counted on him being Reaped before. Nelseir was not eligible for the Reaping, being twenty years old, so he stood beside them. His expression was one of confusion. Like 'what just happened?' confusion. Stunned beyond belief that his younger brother, the one who he had antagonized and bullied, was going to be sent to his death.

Sauveir felt a knot forming in his stomach, but he managed to keep the calm and overconfident expression on his face. In that moment, he was fully beginning to understand that he was probably going to die. Just like Eileen, except his death would probably be a lot worse. Who knew what the Gamemakers had planned for the arena this year? And there were the other Tributes to think about. Tributes who in one moment, could take your life and blow it out like a candle flame.

As Etrusca had the audience applaud for Sauveir and then for both of the Tributes of District Seven, and as the Mayor read the Treaty of Treason, he couldn't help but think two things. The first was about Eileen. "_Well Eileen_,_ looks like we will be back together_. _Just not as I had hoped_." The other was a thought directed to his brother. "_Well Nelseir_, _looks like you're getting your lifelong wish_. _I'm probably going to die_. _Heck_, _if we're lucky, there'll be a cliff there and you can watch me jump off it._"


	14. Chapter 13: District Eight's Reaping

**AN: Coin is pronounced coe-enn. Not coin. Ok? Good. :)**

Chapter Thirteen

The Reaping of District Eight

"Time to wake up kids!" came the sharp and unpleasant voice of the Community Home headmistress, Ms. Stitler, on the other side of the door. The next thing that Coin Darren and the rest of kids he shared a room with knew, the door flew open and crashed against the wall with a resounding bang. Ms. Stitler, a tall, gangly woman whose skin seemed to fit tightly over her bones, with brown hair tied in a taut bun; and with glasses that hung on the edge of her nose, stood in the doorway. "Up you brats!" she yelled. "Today is the Reaping in case any of you forgot. And we don't have time for messing around. So no fooling about. Fix your beds, get yourselves showered and dressed in your best clothes, and report to the cafeteria immediately!" With that she sharply turned around and stomped down the hall in the direction of the girls' sleeping quarters. The sound of her footsteps almost like the thunder of an oncoming storm.

Coin quickly craweled out of bed and took his pillows off the bed so he could fix the gray sheets. Around him, he could see and hear the other boys doing the same. Many of the boys were silent, not saying anything. Others were busy joking around and playfully hitting each other with pillows. But overall, the room was very somber. Reaping Day was not a day that was celebrated in the Community Home. Technically it wasn't celebrated at all in District Eight. But it especially painful for the children living in the Community Home.

That was because on Reaping Day, usually at least one kid from the Community Home was chosen to go to the Hunger Games.

It happened quite often. And in the past ten years, there had always been one kid from the Community Home going to the Games. Unlike the Justice Building, the Community Homes never got any government funding from the Capitol. It relied completely and solely on the donations of the citizens (which weren't a lot because District Eight was the poorest of the middle Districts) and on the tesserae. Every child living in the Community Home had to take it. And because every single child was considered a family member in the Community Home, it turned out that many of the kids had next to over fifty entries. It was very cumulative, even at a young age. And the number of slips that had names on them which belonged to Community Home that were in the bowl often made up the majority. Last year, both of the Tributes for District Eight were from the Community Home. Neither one of them made it past the Bloodbath, the opening battle in the Hunger Games after the gong went off and the Tributes had a chance to get supplies. The year before that, a girl from the Community Home only managed to last one day until the Career pack found her. They tortured her by placing their steel weapons in fires and then branding her neck, back, and legs with them. Then a boy Tribute from District Two finally slit her throat with a knife...not before he cut off one of her ears first though.

Even to this day, Coin still had nightmares about that scene. He didn't know the girl personally, but still. The fact that one day it could be him in the arena having that done to him was a nightmare he didn't want to imagine.

There was tapping on Coin's shoulder. He turned to see his best friend, Pitch standing next to him. The two of them were hardly alike in terms of physical appearance. The only thing they had in common was their scrawny figure and their lack of ability to gain any weight. Pitch had curly brown hair, and Coin had wavy dark hair. Pitch had tanned skin, Coin had pale skin. Pitch's eyes were a deep brown color, while Coin had gray eyes. Practically same shade of gray of all the fabrics of the Community Home and District Eight in general. Though District Eight's primary industry was textiles, they never got to have any of the best fabrics and cloths. The ones with the dyes and the neat stitchings. Most got the stuff that wasn't considered enough for the Capitol. When he looked at his friend, Coin could tell that he was Pitch was nervous. "Hey, don't worry," he said to him. "Everything will be alright."

"It's funny you can say that," Pitch said. "Considering the fact that we have some of the highest amounts of slips in the bowls. Even if we aren't chosen, somebody we know can be. And then we will be forced to watch it on live television. Just like what happened to Niddle."

Niddle was the name of the boy who had been last year's Boy Tribute. He was a kind boy, patient and caring. Even though he was only fifteen years old, many of the boys looked up to him, even some of the older ones. And he was quite popular among the girls too. Not in the way you would expect though. He wasn't a hearthrobber. Far from it actually. It was because he was always willing to help them out if he could. Interactions between the two sexes were limited, so as to prevent "accidents" from happening. And there always a rivalries between the genders too. (The April Fools Day prank wars were almost like what somebody described as an Olympic sport.) But Niddle was on friendly terms with them. Coin had heard somebody say that once Niddle had helped prevent a girl from committing suicide by standing by her, holding her hand, listening to her as she let her sorrows out. With him about, the Community Home had at least seemed like a home.

In the past year though, the Community Home seemed more like a prison. When Niddle had been chosen for the Games and taken away, it was like he took the happiness with him. It seemed as though it had died altogether when he had been killed. Coin could recall that moment. Right after the gong had rung, many of the Tributes had begun running in the direction of the Cornucopia, a horn of plenty with tons of useful items that would be helpful to them in the arena. Niddle ran into the thick of things in hopes of trying to get a backpack and a few other belongings. Just as he got a sleeping bag though, a girl from District One had managed to get her hands on a throwing knife and threw it at him. The knife got him in the skull, and he fell limp like a useless piece of cloth.

In that moment when Niddle had died, Coin had also become the leader of the group of scrawny boys. Even in a Community Home, the kids all ate in groups. There were tables designated for various groups. Niddle had been the leader of the scrawny boys for nearly six years. Some thought he would have passed the leadership down to someone he was close to. Instead, he gave it to the new guy, who had been Coin. Back then, Coin had only just been brought into the Community Home after a couple of Peacekeepers had found him on the streets digging through trash cans. When asked where his parents were, Coin told them the truth. He had been orphaned, his parents had abandoned him and tried to escape District Eight by climbing over the fence. Hoping they could find a supposed underground society that still existed in District Thirteen, the District that had both led the rebellion and the one that had been blown off the map to serve as an example. Rumor was spreading in the factories that perhaps District Thirteen wasn't as dead as some thought. Perhaps District Thirteen hadn't been blown off the map at all, but had managed to make a living underground. It was highly unlikely and improbable. But hope was something that nobody could afford to lose. So they believed in it even despite the odds. The plan was that Coin's parents would try to reach Thirteen, and afterward they hoped they would be able to come back and save their son some day.

All that hope went down the drain when Coin's parents were caught by Peacekeepers, and were shot on sight, killing them instantly. Coin had been standing in one of the alleys watching them go. He tried screaming for them to watch out. To run before it was too late. But the Peacekeepers had opened fire first. He heard his mother scream as a bullet caught her in the neck and she fell dead before she even touched the ground. His father had jumped from the fence. When he reached his wife though, the Peacekeepers shot him too, putting a bullet through his head. Coin quickly hid in a garbage can and watched as the Peacekeepers dragged his parents' bodies down the street to be taken to the Funeral Parlor. Even to this day, the sight of his parents' cold dead eyes and the holes in their bodies from the bullets haunted him.

Niddle had taken Coin in when he arrived. Made him feel welcome despite the cruelty of the Community Home workers and some of the people living in the Community Home as well. They had become quick and great friends. Coin had shown that despite some of the emotional and mental trauma he suffered from what he had seen and heard, he could still lead others. Always willing to lend a helping hand or take command of a situation when needed. So when Niddle had been reaped, he passed the leadership of the scrawny gang onto him. It had been a little rocky start at first, but eventually most of the boys warmed up to Coin. Mostly. There were still boys like Loyer and Wenzel, who were still quite jealous that Niddle had chosen Coin over them, since they were friends with him for much longer. But overall, things seemed to be going well for the most part.

Coin sighed. "We can't spend our time moping. We have to keep thinking we will get through today. If we do, then we will make it through any day."

"I suppose so," Pitch said. "How you manage to still have the faith of a littlle kid though, even after everything you've been through, I don't know how."

"It's simple really," Coin said as he finished making his bed. "Aside from you and the others, faith is the only thing I have left. Now come on, let's get going. I really don't feel like getting on Ms. Stitler's nerves today. She looks cranky enough as she is."

. . .

Liv Lavender watched as people started to pour into the District Square. Capitol citizens were busy setting up the cameras and making sure their hair looked perfect and that their makeup had been done right. In front of the Justice Buildings stood the temporary stage with a podium, the chairs needed for the ones who would need to sit in them, and the table with the bowls filled with slips in them. Even from where she stood in the growing crowd of eligible teen girls, she could see that once again, the Reaping Bowls were practically filled to the brim with names. Because so many people in District Eight were poor, many took tesserae in order to insure they would at least get some products in order to make bread, and oil to use for lamps at night.

Liv didn't want to take tesserae, but she had no choice. She and her Uncle Jack, the only living family member she had who was willing to care for her, were very poor. They probably would have had more money if Uncle Jack didn't always spend it on alcohol. Though a decent man when sober, he was notorious in the downtown area of District Eight for being a drunk. At least several times a week he got wasted. It was amazing he even had the energy or the will to go to work the next day when he did. Even with the wages he earned in the textile factories and the tesserae, Liv had to resort to making clothes by hand. Her room had become her own little workshop, and she often sewed and tailored clothes into the night by burning the oil she had gotten for taking tesserae. Some of the clothes were made for herself. Others though were use to help gain some extra bit of money. Often she took her products to one of the abandoned factories in the downtown area that served as a blackmarket. The Blackmarket was a great secret. Very few people knew about it, and it was strictly kept that way. If the Peacekeepers ever received word of it, they would destroy the factory and arrest anyone who tried to continue selling their items. She received fair prices for her clothes, but still. It wasn't enough to help pay the rent for a small apartment building she and her Uncle lived in.

Not too far away from her, Liv could see that a fight had broken out between two older men who were making their way to the inelegible group. One of the men had a thick gray beard and he wore a rounded hat on his head. He had a star necklace around his neck. Liv instantly recognized him as Rabbi Weisburg. He owned a synogauge not too far away from her house, about a couple of blocks away. The other man had red hair and blue eyes. She didn't know who he was, but it was easy to tell by the rosary necklace he wore around his neck that he must have been from one of the western parts of District Eight. Most people around there tended to wear rosary necklaces. At first the two men were only shouting insults at each other. And then the red haired man spat in the Rabbi's face and then a fist fight broke from there. A fight that two Peacekeepers- both of whom were women- had to break up. It took a bit of coaxing and few curse words and then lastly a few punches, but eventually the two men had stopped brawling and allowed themselves to be separated, being led in opposite directions of the crowd of inelegibles.

Liv shook her head in dissatisfaction. She never understood why people were always fighting in District Eight. Well, technically, she did understand why. Her parents had told her before they died from a fever that hit the downtown area of District Eight so bad it had to be quarantined. The only reason why she had survived was because the disease apparently only affected adults, not children. Anyway her parents had told her that after the Dark Days, the Capitol wanted to make sure that the Districts would never come together to rebel against it again. What better way to keep the Districts from coming together than by making it so that a District itself couldn't come together? Back in the Dark Days, District Eight had taken on a heavy amount of damage, being one of the main instigators in the Rebellion, short only by District Thirteen itself. And part of that reason was because of the fact that the people were able to unite and were able to set aside their differences in order to join a common cause. The Capitol ordered that everybody in District Eight be split into groups based on physical appearances, culture, ethnicity, and class. People were forced from their homes. Citizens who couldn't take their anger out on the Capitol for fear of being killed took it out on the group who was being moved into the area where their homes were. After that people started to throw suspicion on one another. Claiming that the other's practices and customs were being used to hurt their group. Intense pride took root in the groups. Trust in only those who came from their group took an iron grip. Within a couple of years, the Capitol's apartheid and segregation methods had proven to be a success. The District that once had stable civility had broken down to become one of the most unstable Districts due to the rapidly roaring fire of racism and prejudice. The children learned to hate their fellow classmates by their parents. Teachers played favorites. Marketers sold only to specific groups. In just thirty years, not only had District Eight become one of the most unstable Districts, it had also become one with the most crime. Every day you could watch people being beaten, hung, stoned, or drowned for crimes.

"Capitol cruelty knows no bounds," her father had once told her one night when she was a little girl. "Cause once it targets a group, it just doesn't target the instigators. Capitol cruelty also targets the generations that follow. Taking the friendships between families, and making it so in a couple of generations those families would later become bitter enemies with gaps so large that a bridge no matter how long will never reach the other side."

Liv knew it was true. There was plenty of evidence for it. You needed to only look at what happened to District Eight or the Hunger Games if you needed convincing. That was another way the Hunger Games helped the Capitol keep control. Not only did they subjugate the Districts by forcing their children to be punished for crimes of their fathers, they made it so that the Districts would always be competing against one another. Never communicating and never trying to get along. Allowing themselves to be played like pieces in games themselves.

That was also partly the reason why she didn't have any friends. She use to have a couple. But then their families would find out that she was either a different race, ethnicity, religion, or even social class than what they were and they would leave. They didn't sit with her at the lunch table. They didn't come over to help study for any tests. They didn't even bother to come and ask if they could see the beautiful clothes she sewed. The prejudice that had been planted in their parents had been sewn into the soil of their hearts as well.

She shook her head in sadness and sighed. A few strands of her wavy brown hair got in her eyes and she brushed them aside so they were behind her ears. Since her mother and father had died a couple of years ago, she had never once cut her hair. She could never afford to. In order to make sure her hair never got caught while she was sewing, she always put it up in a tight bun. She recalled one time when she forgot, she accidentally sewed her hair into the coat she had been making. It took hours, with no help from Uncle Jack at all cause he was wasted, before she finally got her hair out. After that, she always made sure her hair was in a bun before she started.

The last of the citizens of District Eight were pouring in as the Anthem of Panem started to play. She recognized many of them as kids who lived in the Community Home. Many of them had hunched shoulders, bent backs, bruises from angry hands, possibly all three. Whenever she thought that she had a difficult life, she always had to remember that it could get worse. She could be in the Community Home. The headmistress of the Home was notorious for being bitter and angry, and for abusing the kids who lived there. Living with Uncle Jack wasn't always the greatest. But at least he didn't beat her when he got mad. And he was never mad when drunk. All he did was laugh and make jokes that only he understood.

As the Anthem finished playing, three people stepped up to the stage. One was District Eight's Escort, Metta Liliki. She was a tall woman with skin she had dyed a pink color, with a sky blue wig on her head. Her eyelashes were also dyed a sky blue, as were her eyebrows. She wore beaded, dangling earings which fell down to her shoulders. After her came Mayor Fealt, who was an average-sized man with gray hair and brown eyes. After him came the only Victor that District Eight had in the thirty years there had been Hunger Games- Jeryn Sandall.

Everyone was silent as Mayor Fealt made his way to the podium. "Welcome!" he greeted. "Welcome citizens of District Eight. I ask that you please be silent as I retell the history of Panem."

Same boring story, different year. That's how Liv looked at it. When the Mayor finished, he then went on to introduce everyone to Jeryn Sandall. He was a blond haired man in his forties, for he had won the fourth Hunger Games back when he was thirteen years old. The arena that year had been a large mountain arena with chilly days and freezing nights that sometimes accompanied ten feet of snow. He had managed to survive because he knew how to start fires and because he knew how to sew and stitch clothes. And he could do it with almost any material that could be given to him. His Sponsors sent him a sewing kit when he was down in the final six, and he used it to help stitch together a few sweatshirts, which he left out in the open at the cornucopia, where everyone else was gathered. The other remaining Tributes fought over them, desperate for warmth because they had used all of the materials that they had. There were only three Tributes besides Jeryn when the fight was over with. And they were all severely wounded. He then set a stick on fire. Using his new homemade torch, he burned the clothes of the remaining Tributes. The clothes were very flammable, and all the kids died from their burns. They said that even after twenty-six years, Jeryn could still hear their screams. Which was why he had turned into a alcoholic. Supposedly, it was because of his drinking problem District Eight hadn't had any Victors in twenty-six years. It was never officialized. The Capitol didn't like to review the side-affects of their Games. But everyone in District Eight had a feeling that it was because of that reason.

Mayor Fealt finished, then turned the podium over to Metta Liliki. She bore an excited grin on her face. Her upbeat nature was a strange display in District Eight. Liv wondered if Metta realized that many people in Eight were gawking at her. "Happy Hunger Games everyone!" she cheered whether she was aware of it or not, and raised her excitedly-clenched fists up in the air in excitement, her annoying accent-heavy made Liv feel like her ears had been stabbed with knives. "Without further ado, we shall now get on with the Reapings! Of course, we start with the ladies."

Liv's eyes immediately fell on the bowl. Compared to amount of slips that were inside, she had a small amount. She knew that the children in the Community Home were more at risk than the rest of the kids who weren't. Everyone knew what Ms. Stitler did to the children who lived there when it came to Reapings. How she forced them to take more tesserae than needed because she claimed that every child in the Community Home were family. So in turn, some of them kids ended up having over fifty slips. The odds were practically in her favor...

"Liv Lavender!" Metta suddenly announced, having finished drawing a name from the bowl and returning to the podium.

Dread swept through Liv as she felt herself slowly make her way onto the stage. She could feel her palms starting to sweat. Her heart beating so hard the sound roared in her ears. How could this of happened? The odds were in her favor. There were slips with tons of names in there. Yet one of her slips had been chosen nevertheless.

No, the odds were definitely not in her favor.

. . .

Coin watched as the girl known as Liv Lavender walked up to the stage. She was trembling violently, though she looked like she was desperately trying to hide it. Pity swept through him. He couldn't help it. Though at the same time, he was glad that the Girl Tribute wasn't going to be a girl from the Community Home. For some reason, the sight of seeing a non-Community Home girl being chosen was giving him a sense of false hope. Maybe, just maybe, the Boy Tribute for District Eight this year wouldn't be from the Community Home. Highly unlikely. But still possible. Even if the odds weren't always good.

Metta Liliki was again bouncing up and down on her balls of her feet. She let out a sound between her lips which could only be an excited fangirl shriek which she was trying to hold back. Coin watched in amusement as she started doing some breathing exercises. "Eyeliner bless me!" she exclaimed. "I feel like a little girl again! I'm just sooooooooooooooo excited!"

"That only makes one of her," Coin heard Pitch mutter under his breath. Not loud enough for the Peacekeepers to hear though.

Finally managing to salvage some strength to calm herself, Metta announced in a dignified tone, "Now then, I shall select the Boy Tribute for District Eight this year."

Metta walked over to the Reaping Bowl. "My my my!" she exclaimed with excitement. "So many slips! This is going to be really tense!" She then slipped her hand into the bowl and started shuffling around it. Coin felt his breath catch in his chest, which wasn't a good thing. Coin was asthmatic. He had to be careful whenever he had to do any physical activity that involved a lot of exercise, or else he would start choking and gasping for breath. With his heart beating the way it was, he could feel his hands slipping towards his pocket already. Feeling for the inhaler there. It had been hell trying to get it so that the Peacekeepers would let him pass through with it. They even went as far as to test it to make sure it really was breathilizer medicine. Coin had been tempted to just let them have it so that they would let him be. Now he was glad he didn't.

After what felt like five minutes (which it probably was, with Metta being as dramatic as she was) Metta finally pulled out a slip. As she walked over to the podium, Coin could feel the whole audience pulling in a breath. Waiting for the unlucky boy's name to be read. Quickly Coin put the inhaler to his lips and pressed down on it, taking in the medicine. In his head, he prayed that he wasn't the one who had been chosen. He prayed that nobody he knew would be chosen.

When Metta read the name, his prayers had been answered. Just not in the way that he hoped they would have been.

"Coin Darren," she said into the microphone.

Anyone who lived in the Community Home gasped. Many of the younger scrawny kids started to wail. In the corner of his eye, Coin saw Pitch's mouth drop. From the other corner of his eye, he could see that Loyer and Wenzel -who had not been too thrilled by the fact that Niddle had chosen him to be leader instead of them- were surprised as well. From the Girls section, Coin could hear some of them gasping in horror. Everywhere else, all he could see was pity. No, scratch that. There was only one person that didn't bear a trace of surprise or pity. She had a cold expression on her face. It caused a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. That was when he realized that she was going to be glad when he died. Oh she would make a show of it. Pretending she was sorry for him. Had to look good for the cameras after all. But deep down, she was going to be glad to have one less mouth to feed.

That was when he started to speculate whether she made them all force to get tesserae based on the number of people living in the Community Home. Was it for more than just the need for grain and oil? Was it so that she would have to spend less money on a mouth to feed. He didn't know. Nor did he have time to ponder it further. All he could do was stand there in dread-filled horror as the crowd started applauding for the Tributes at the command of Metta Liliki. From the corner of his eye, he could see that Liv was still trembling. He couldn't help but feel pity for her. Only he knew how she felt at this moment. Cause he was experiencing it too. Perhaps they were the only ones who truly knew what it felt like for the other. They didn't know each other personally. But there was a bond between them now. One that could only be broken when one of them died.

The only other thing he could think of was: "_Now I'm probably going to end up like the Tributes before me. Bleeding in the grass. Or freezing to death. A knife in my skull. __I am going to be like that girl who had been tortured by the Tributes. If I'm lucky, I'll be like Niddle. With just a knife thrown into my head._"

Of course, that was only if he was lucky.


	15. Chapter 14: The Reaping of District Nine

**AN: Now that I am on summer vacation, I think we shall be seeing more updates. :)**

**Fair warning. Some light mentions of religious content. Well, what I consider light anyway. As I said a million times before, I am not promoting a particular religion or demoting any. I am just showing you my developments I made. There are also some mentions to a certain subject that may not be appropriate for some kids. Discretion is advised. After all, this fic was rated T for a reason. **

Chapter Fourteen

The Reaping of District Nine

Dagan took a washcloth and carefully cleaned the single mirror of the single bathroom which rested in his family's cottage. The mirror had dust and flakes of grain on it from all the work in the grain fields in District Nine, and needed a good cleaning up. With sure and gentle strokes, he wiped the cloth across the mirror. Doing his best to make sure he didn't scratch the mirror. When he finished, he then patted it dry using a dry cloth from the small counter that he and his family used in order to hold their cloths.

When he finished cleaning the mirror, he nodded in satisfaction at his work. Then he returned to what he had been doing previously. He examined himself in the mirror, checking to make sure that his beard was not growing back after he had shaved it about a week ago. There were kids that he knew of who could grow beards in only a couple of days. While he wasn't one of them boys, Dagan did have to shave at least once a month. Dagan didn't like facial hair much. He hated how itchy it made his cheeks, chin, and neck felt. When he was satisfied by the fact that his beard hadn't come back yet, he then moved on to brushing his hair. His hair was an ashen brown color, straight as a string until you reached the front. Then for some reason it ended in a wave. Dagan wasn't vain about his appearances. He honestly could care less for the most part. But on Reaping Day, looking your best was essential. He reached into another drawer in the counter and pulled out a comb and started combing his hair, which had been drying for about three minutes now. When he finished, he placed the comb back in the drawer and then left the bathroom.

Because he lived in a small cottage, the moment he stepped out of the bathroom Dagan was standing in the room that served as both a living area/kitchen/dining room. Over against the one wall was the bed that his parents slept in. Next to it stood a rocking chair which his mother had owned since he could remember. She had told him once that it was a gift to her from a friend after they found out she was pregnant with Dagan. Sitting in the rocking chair was Dagan's grandmother. She was in her seventies, and had silver hair that fell down to her shoulders despite its wavy nature. Ever since Dagan's grandfather had died, his grandmother had taken to living with him. The transition went quite smoothly without any problems. (Even if he had to adjust to the fact he wasn't going to be able to eat as much food as he used to.) She had taken to mostly sleeping in the rocking chair, despite the protests from everyone and offers to let her sleep in one of the two beds that they had. But she would hear none of it. Grandma was a proud woman, and refused to let anything hinder her, even the slight illness she had developed. They all prayed that it wasn't the same thing that had killed grandfather about two years ago. As he looked at her sleeping in the rocking chair, Dagan, couldn't help but smile warmly. He could hear her light snoring from where he stood. Over to the left was the stove his family used for cooking, where his mother stood scrambling eggs in it. The smell of bacon filled his nostrils accompanied the eggs, and he could feel the hunger gnawing at his stomach, not having eaten since supper the night before. In the center of the room was the table which the family ate at it for every meal.

His mother noticed him standing there in only a towel wrapped around his waist. "Are you looking for your clothes sweetheart?"

"Yes mom," he said as he walked over to one of the five chairs that surrounded the table. "I thought you said you were going set them on the chair?"

"I must have placed them in on your bed. Is the door closed?"

Dagan took a quick glance towards the room that he shared with his twelve-year-old brother, Aviv. He saw that the door was closed. Meaning his brother must still be changing. "Yeah."

His mother sighed. "Go knock on the door and tell him to hurry along and finish dressing. He ought to be done by now."

Gripping the towel in his hand so it wouldn't slide as he walked, Dagan made his way to the door of his and his brother's bedroom. "Hey Avi," he said, calling his brother by his nickname for him. He was the only person that his little brother would allow to call him 'Avi.' For some reason, he didn't like it when others called him that except for Dagan. "Avi, are you almost done in there?"

His brother opened the door. With his straight ash brown hair, Aviv could have been an almost exact copy of Dagan when he was at that age. Just add on a few more pounds of muscle and make his white skin more tan, and he would be. Aviv was wearing a simple white dress shirt with a pair of gray dress pants. The same clothes that he wore on every Sunday when he went to church. Seeing his brother in only a towel, his brother blushed. "Sorry Dagan. I was actually done for about half an hour. I just forgot to open the door."

Dagan smiled. "Don't worry buddy," he said, rumpling up his hair. This action caused Aviv to cry in protest. "Man! I spent all morning to try and comb that!" he exclaimed, unable to contain his laughter.

Laughing, Dagan said, "Head on in the bathroom and comb it. I'm going to put on my Reaping clothes."

Aviv sighed in mock exasperation. "You're lucky you're my favorite brother."

"I'm your only brother though."

"Exactly why you're my favorite." His eyes suddenly widened in shock. "Oh my necklace!" he exclaimed. Dagan waited as his brother went back into their room and found the necklace resting on their dresser. The necklace was a basic rosary necklace. A wooden cross with a little figurine of Jesus nailed to it. Dagan had one of a similar design too. He didn't wear it all the time for fear of it getting lost, but he kept it on hand when he went to bed. Aviv took his everywhere though. When he finished putting the necklace around his neck, Aviv smiled. "Can't go without this."

Chuckling, Dagan let Aviv pass through the doorway and then entered the room. Once he closed the door behind him, Dagan walked over to the side of his bed, which stood in the middle of the room with the end where the pillows sat against the wall. Resting on the end where his feet would have been if he laid down on the bed were Dagan's dress clothes. He was surprised to find one of his father's old outfits. He hadn't seen his father at all since he got up this morning, he must have gone out to see if he could trade some fresh milk that came from their cow with someone from the Town Center. Before that, he must have left some of his old clothes for Dagan to wear. Looking at them, Dagan wondered if his father had worn them during the years when he had to take part in the Reaping.

He quickly changed into the clothes that his father had given him. The dress shirt was a creamy white color with similar-colored buttons. The dress pants were a dark color and had a light gray button in the front to button them. He left his room and made his way out to the room, where his whole family now all sat gathered at the table. Eggs and bacon rested on simple white plates that had been in Dagan's mom's family for generations, way back even before in the Dark Days. Serving as a centerpiece for the table was a small brass figurine of a humanoid creature with wings.

His mother saw him come to the table and smiled. "You look handsome sweetheart. You almost look like your father when he was your age."

Dagan's father smiled. "I knew my clothes would some day fit you. If we had the money, I would have bought you some new Reaping clothes."

Dagan shook his head. "Don't worry Dad. I'm fine." He then took a seat at the table.

"Who do I look like?" asked Aviv.

"Like your father, but I can also see a bit of your grandfather in you," said their grandmother. She smiled. "He was very handsome too. That's what I told him when he and I first met."

"I thought you said that you told him he was a pain in the rear when you first met?" asked Dagan's father.

"That was before I told him about the handsome part. Besides he deserved it. He would have agreed with me if he were here."

"What did he do?"

"He took my cookies and teased me with them. I didn't get cookies often when I was little. So they were always a special treat whenever I got them. He knew this, and tried to get me to chase after him to get them back. We were over by the creek that flows near the school. I had chased him to there. He was along the edge of the bank, still teasing. So I got frustrated and pushed him in."

"Did you help him out?"

"Had to, he still had the bag with the cookies in them." She paused and allowed the family to laugh. She even laughed lightly herself, which resulted in a coughing fit that required Dagan's father to hand her glass of water to help her. When she managed to recover, she said, "But when I pulled them out, I don't know what happened. I guess Cupid stuck me with an arrow or something. Cause next thing I knww, I was in love with him." She sighed fondly, and there was a look in her eyes as if she were recalling the past. "And I loved him ever since."

Aviv smiled. "I love when you tell us stories from when you were younger Grandma. They're always interesting."

Dagan smiled too. Like his brother, he loved listening to his Grandmother's stories. Not only were they entertaining, but whenever she told them, you could feel the warmth and happiness in the family. He especially loved seeing the happiness dancing in his brother's eyes. Like a star shining in a sky. That was the way it looked. There was so much joy there, you could almost forget that it was Reaping Day.

Sadly, reality wasn't something that liked to be forgotten. And soon Dagan's mother reminded the family of that. "I think it's time we start eating breakfast now. Sadly, today is the day of the Reaping."

"I plan on going, you can't stop me," said Dagan's grandmother.

"Mom, you're not feeling well," said Dagan's dad. "Perhaps you should stay here. The Peacekeepers will understand-"

"No. I have a walker and am capable of walking long distances when I use it, with rest in between. I refuse to stay here. I refuse to let this illness keep me down."

Dagan's father sighed, but didn't argue. Arguing with her was useless. "You're as stubborn as a mule sometimes."

Dagan's grandmother smiled. "Your father said that once too. Except when he said it, we were dancing together at a wedding ceremony for friends of ours and I kept on wanting to be the lead."

. . .

Ivy Bloom stood in the Square and waited for the Reaping to start. She stood quietly in the sixteen-year-old girls' section. Hardly anyone spoke to her. They were all gathered in their small, secluded groups. Talking in hushed tones. You could feel the tension and the worry in the air. It didn't fit the festive feeling that was trying to be portrayed in District Nine. With all the decorations on the buildings and the sight of the shops closed early so that everyone could attend the Reaping, it appeared as if there were a festival or something. Only people didn't feel very festive. And why should they? District Nine wasn't one of the Career Districts. It wasn't one of the upper Districts. No, in District Nine -which served as the marker for the group of Districts referred to as the lower Districts- Reaping Day was not something to be excited for. Unless you wanted a death sentence.

People kept pouring into the Square. People with hunched backs from carrying loads of grain on their backs and skin that was tanned because of all the work they did in the sun. District Nine was the District whose primary industry was grain. It centered on raising it and making sure that it was good, whole, and healthy grain. Then once the grain was grown, it had to be picked so that it could be processed into bread. The worst bits of grain had to be packed into sacks. Instead of leaving it to waste though, those bits of grain would serve as the tesserae grain. Given to the people across Panem who unfortunately had to take it in order to make sure they had some food on the table. Sadly, many people in District Nine had to take it as well. Though they worked the fields and collected the grain and even processed it into bread, they hardly got any of the good stuff. They were forced to give it all to the Capitol. They had to buy the bread with their own money.

Ivy lived in one of those families. Both her father and her mother were farmers that worked on one of the established fields in the District. District Nine was a vast District with a low population density. Instead of the people all gathered in one large town, people were scattered throughout the District. There were whole communities that were established which centered on farming the grain. Then truckers would come and package the grain collected and take it to factories to be processed into bread and any other uses they found for it. The work was long and strenuous. District Nine was located in a place that was once called the Heartland. Even before Panem, people had been known for growing grain. The soil had been worked to extremes, and often needed to be revitalized using special chemical formulas that at the same time wouldn't make the food grown in it toxic.

Feeling a person nudge her, Ivy turned to see her friend Dina standing beside her. She wore a huge grin on her face. Which was kind of odd, considering the fact it was Reaping Day. Knowing that her friend always had a reason for something, Ivy asked, "Why are you grinning? You look as happy as a dog that got a brand new bone to chew on."

Dina's smile grew larger. "You're not going to believe this!"

"What?"

"Okay, remember last night when we went raiding?"

Raiding was the word they liked to call it by. Every night, Ivy and her friends would sneak onto the property of some of the more wealthier farmers and take some of their grain out of the field. Ivy knew it was wrong, and her parents would scold her for doing such a thing if they knew. But their family was struggling. They hardly had any money, and there were nights when the family would go to bed with their stomachs still growling. She had told them that she had gotten a job working part-time in one of the more wealthier farmers' fields and they paid her in grain at the end of every week. They believed her, because they never had a reason no to. Ivy was a good girl. She got grades and she was kind, even if there were days when she was so frank with people it seemed insulting. Guilt constantly gnawed at Ivy's heart, like the hunger did at night. Sometimes it was hard to tell which of the two were the most powerful. But what other choice did she have? It wasn't like the Capitol was going to be treating the people in District Nine like they did in the upper Districts any time soon. "Yeah, I remember. You and Seamus stayed in the fields to pick a little extra grain despite my reservations."

Dina nodded. "Right. So anyway. I was talking with Seamus last night while we were doing it. Guess what I finally did?"

"What?"

"I finally started to drop him some hints that I liked him. I didn't go overboard. Just hinted towards the fact that I liked his hair and I loved being with him and such. Nothing major. I don't want to scare him away now that I finally have the courage to address it."

Ivy had to fight to keep the smile on her face. Mostly because of the fact that she couldn't believe that Dina had finally found the courage to start mildly flirting with Seamus. Seamus was a boy with tan skin and brown eyes and dark hair. Just like many people who lived in District Nine. However, for a boy for his age, he was tall, and strikingly handsome. All the girls practically melted like butter whenever they saw him. However, Seamus never let his looks and his ability to have girls drool at his feet get to his head. He was calm and reasonable. Once when Ivy asked if he liked it, he said, 'Sometimes. I won't lie and say I don't like it. But it's not as fun as some people think. Whenever a guy complains, I ask if he actually has trouble trying to keep a girl's attention for more than a few seconds because they are obsessing over his body. That usually gets them to shut up.'

Secretly, Ivy liked Seamus in that way as well. There were days when she would find herself staring at him from the other side of the room. One time he had nearly caught her staring at his torso. When he asked her what she was looking at, she quickly snapped out of it and said, 'Sorry, I thought you had a tomato stain on the bottom of your shirt.' Not one of her brightest moments.

She would not lie to herself though. She liked Seamus in that way. The only problem was, so didn't Dina. Every once in a while Dina would come up to her and ask her advice. How should she try to develop her courage so she could talk to him about more intimate subjects? How should she offer to help him with his school work so she and him could be alone together without making it obvious she wanted to be alone with him? How should she make treats for him without making it look like she clearly fancied him? Things of that sort. Dina was sweet and kind. She had been crushing on Seamus since they all were twelve years old. Whereas Ivy knew that she herself had only started developing feelings for him only about a year ago. How could she possibly fulfill her own dreams and in doing so completely crush the ones of a friend?

Needless to say, it felt kind of awkward for her at times. Lucky for her, she was a decent actress, so Dina never suspected anything. Mostly.

Realizing that she had been probably been silent for too long, she said, "Congrats Dina. You're on your way now. Who knows? It may not be long until you and him may actually become a couple." She probably should have cut that last part out because Dina nearly fainted with delight at that. But she managed to regain herself. "Trust me, a little more time, and you and him will get somewhere."

Dina nodded. "I hope so. I don't want May to get to him first."

May was a girl in their class who was known as the girl who everyone liked. Despite the vastness of District Nine, the kids still all went to school in the Town. May was a fair-skinned girl with strawberry-blond hair and a freckle on her chin. Fair skin was a common trait for those who lived in the Town, especially for the girls. Unlike the women who worked the fields, the women in the Town usually either owned shops or were stay-at-home mothers who took care of kids while their husbands worked. May's father owned a sweet shop that was not too far away from the Square. Seamus had said he didn't really have an interest in her, though he would agree with the fact she was pretty. May was notorious for her crush on Seamus though. So needless to say, many of the girls who often tried to get Seamus' attention were always worried about competing with her. Afraid she would steal him away with her looks and her wealth. Ivy smiled at Dina. "Don't worry. Seamus told me he doesn't like her that way."

Dina looked relieved. "Thank goodness."

The Anthem started to play, and the final stragglers were making their way into the Square. The people who had come from the Capitol had their cameras on and the reporters were standing respectively as they waited for the Anthem to finish. All eyes, including Ivy's, turned in the direction of the stage that had been set up in front of the Justice Building. She watched as District Nine's Escort stepped onto the stage. Her name was Vira Mofftin, and she had on a neon purple dress with a neon purple hat on top of her blue-dyed hair. A frilly black scarf wrapped around her neck to help balance out the neon colors. Following her came the Mayor and the past Victors of District Nine. Ivy's eyes turned away from Vira and focused on District Nine's mayor, Mayor Pandree. When she looked at the thirty-some-year-old blond haired and blue eyed man she couldn't help but feel hatred surge through her. While she wasn't one for hatred, Ivy couldn't stand that man. In some ways, he was decent. He wasn't as strict about punishments. He actually gave some of his money to the Community Home to help them care for the kids in there.

But ever since the day he had let Mirabellis be humiliated and executed in front of the whole District, Ivy could not find any kind of adoration for him.

Mirabellis was Ivy's sister. Four years ago, there had been a bad harvest in District Nine. A harvest so bad that people keeled over from starvation. Food was scarce. People raided the wealthy's trash cans or took crops from the wealthier farmers' fields on a daily basis. During that time, Ivy's father had also gotten really sick and couldn't work. Their mother had done her best, but she couldn't afford to bring in enough money to help buy food and other supplies they needed by herself. Mirabellis did the one thing she could think of in order to help her family. She started selling her body in exchange for food. Despite its conservative appearance, there were many men in District Nine who were pleased to learn that there was a prostitute roaming the District, giving them one night in bed with her in exchange for food. Mother had warned Mirabellis that it was dangerous, not to mention morally wrong. But Mirabellis kept it up, because she knew it was her job to help bring food to the table in the only way she really knew how. She almost made it too. After many months, the blight had stopped. And her father was starting to get over his illness. She was only going to sell herself one more time, and then she would be finished with prostitution forever. That last time was going to be with the Mayor. Which Ivy found kind of disgusting, considering the fact that he had a wife and had had two daughters who were about Mirabellis' age at the time (which was seventeen).

When Mirabellis had finished, she had come home. Not even five minutes after sitting down, feeling sore and shattered because the Mayor had been a little rougher than most she had done it with. (Though she did say that she had survived rougher than him.) That was when the Peacekeepers barged into their home and pushed their mom and dad against the wall. Ivy was only twelve years old at the time, so they didn't pay any attention to her. It was Mirabellis they were focused on. They grabbed her by the arms and took out a red strip of metal that was malleable and used it to bind her sister's hands behind her back. Telling her she was arrested, but not even telling her on what grounds. The next morning, everyone in District Nine had been gathered in the Square. There everyone watched as Mirabellis was forced to parade down the main street in nothing but a skimpy outfit that revealed almost everything on her body while a Peacekeeper threw rocks at her as she walked. Then when she stood before the Justice Building, the same Peacekeeper ripped off the skimpy outfit so she was completely naked in front of the crowd. Then more Peacekeepers came and they stoned her to death in front of the entire crowd. Just like what they were going to do with Mary Magdalene before Jesus intervened. Except in Mirabellis' case, no savior intervened on her behalf.

That was why she hated the Mayor. Because unlike some of the men that Mirabellis had been with, he had the power and could have stopped her from being tortured and killed. He could have intervened on her behalf but didn't. Instead he stood there with his wife and his daughters standing next to him and watched as the girl he betrayed them with get stoned to death. After she had been stoned, Mirabellis had earned the name "Mirabellis the Prostitute." It was now even used as a term whenever somebody was sleeping around with more than one person. Once, Ivy had even saw a woman point at her and say to her five-year-old daughter, "Don't you even think about going with that girl. Her sister was a prostitute. Her family raised her that way. And now they're raising that girl to be the same. Their wickedness will get onto you and you'll forever be shamed and the good Lord will damn you to Hellfire."

Ivy wanted to tell the lady to watch her trap and quit talking about her family that way. She wanted to tell her that she had no idea what she was talking about. And she especially wanted to tell the lady that she was being cruel and judgmental and that she had no idea who her family was. Just because her sister had made bad mistakes despite her good intentions, didn't mean that her whole family was like that. But there was nothing she could do. Aside from the people who knew them, their whole family had been slandered.

And she blamed the Mayor for it.

While she was thinking all of this, the Mayor had stepped up to the podium and was now finishing the history of Panem. He was now moving on to introduce the past Victors of District Nine. In the thirty years there had been Hunger Games, there had only been two. The first was Anita Darling, who had won the twenty-third Hunger Games. She didn't draw too much attention to herself during her time in the Capitol, though she hinted to the fact she was pretty good in something. When she was in the arena, she followed the same strategy up until she was in the final ten. That was when she revealed she was pretty good using rocks, her upper body having a lot of muscle from working in the fields with her parents. She killed six Tributes just by using rocks alone, and then let the other three- who were all Careers- kill each other. The other Victor was Otus Pannon, who had won last year in the twenty-ninth Hunger Games. He had won because of his ability to camoflauge himself. He stayed hidden for nearly two whole weeks without having to fight any Tributes, living off of nuts and berries and the occasional fish he caught in a stream not too far away. Then when it came down to the final five, he and the other four Tributes were forced together due to a stampede of moose. Three Tributes were killed. Then it came down to him and a girl from District Four, and he managed to rip her spear which had served as her signature weapon from her grasp during their final confrontation and killed her with it.

When the Mayor finished introducing the past Victors, he then turned the podium over to Vira Mofftin. She welcomed everyone and thanked them for coming. Then wished a very excited, "Happy Hunger Games!" Her annoying accent carrying out across the Square. "We will start with the girls as protocol says."

Ivy watched as Vira walked over to the table with the Reaping Bowls in it. She reached into the bowl with the girls' slips in them and shuffled her hand in for a few seconds. When she drew a name, she walked over to the podium. Everyone drew a breath and waited. In her head, all Ivy could hear herself thinking about was her hope that the girl's name that had been drawn wasn't hers.

Vira read the name. "Ivy Bloom."

Her hope shattered when she heard her name called. A gulp ran down her throat and she felt like she was going to be sick as she made her way onto the stage. Her only hope was that she wouldn't throw up on the eighteen-year-olds standing at the front of the crowd or on Vira Mofftin. (Though she wouldn't feel bad if it was on the Mayor.) It felt like forever until she reached the stage. Especially because she could feel people casting icy glares at her. She even heard people whispering that God must have been mad at her and made it so the odds weren't in her favor. The urge to bust them all in the mouth had been strong, but she resisted. She wasn't exactly going to look good if she used violent retaliation.

However, as Vira encouraged the audience to clap for her, Ivy did manage to turn her head and catch the eyes of the Mayor. He was looking at her with complete shock and recognition. There was also traces of...was it just her? Or...was that guilt? Did he remember as the little sister of Maribellis? The girl he had slept with, the night that that same girl had been taken by Peacekeepers and arrested.

_I hope you do_, Ivy thought. _I hope you rot in your guilt and choke on it you foul piece of sh-_

Vira's voice cut her thoughts off though. "Now it's time to select our Boy Tribute!" she announced.

. . .

Dagan stood in the seventeen-year-old section of the boys and watched as the girl who had been called walked up to the stage. Ivy Bloom. He didn't know about her, but he had heard rumors. Rumors about how her family had raised her older sister to be a prostitute and sell herself to people in order to get extra food. Of course, Dagan wasn't sure he believed it or not. He knew that many people in District Nine could be judgmental and spiteful. Not all of them, but a good many. Whether the rumors were true or not, he still felt bad for Ivy. What her sister had done was wrong, he would not deny that. But the way the people kept on targeting her and her family over it was just as wrong in his eyes.

He snapped himself from his train of thought and focused on the fact that it was now time for one of the boys to be Reaped. Taking a quick glance back, he saw that Aviv was standing with a few of his friends in the twelve-year-old boys section. Dagan saw that he was nervous. All of the twelve-year-olds were nervous. Everyone was, but usually it was the twelve-year-olds who were the most. It was their first Reaping. And while it didn't happen often there was still the chance that one of them would be Reaped. Especially because a multitude of them had taken out tesserae. Dagan wasn't too worried about Aviv. Dagan had refused to let him take tesserae. So hadn't the rest of the family. There were already enough slips with Dagan's name on them in there. With only one slip with Aviv's name on it, he should be able to make it out fine.

_You're going to be fine buddy_, Dagan thought. _You're going to be fine_.

"Aviv Reinard!"

The world around Dagan shattered. He watched in horror as the gasps in the twelve-year-old section of boys began to make its way through the whole crowd. Even the adults started to gasp. People who knew Aviv began to murmur. Many shook their heads in disbelief and sadness. Nobody in District Nine liked it when twelve-year-olds were reaped. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that kids had to take part in the Reaping period, but especially the twelve-year-olds.

Dagan watched as his brother started to make his way through the crowd. Aviv looked like he was about to be sick to his stomach. And he definitely looked surprised. But there was also something else there. He couldn't place it at first though. His brother's movement, while nervous, were still firmly set. He was afraid, but was accepting his fate as he made his way through the crowd to reach the stage.

That was when he realized it. His brother was being faithful. Despite the fact that he had been chosen, he wasn't going to run away from his fate. He wasn't going to scream and cry. Though he was afraid, he wasn't going to let his fear overcome him. He wore a rosary necklace around his neck, and Dagan watched as he clutched it in his hands. His lips whispered in silent prayer. Choosing to believe and hold on. Not asking God to change his fate, but accepting it because he knew it was what God wanted and what was best.

The moment that his sweet little brother kissed the rosary necklace sealed it for Dagan. And the next thing he knew, he was pushing people out of his way. And the words that were coming out of his mouth stunned him and everyone around him. "I volunteer! I volunteer!"

More gasps filled the air. Volunteering was a rare sight in District Nine. In fact, the last time someone had ever volunteered for anyone in District Nine was back in the seventh Hunger Games or somewhere around then. That didn't matter though. Dagan didn't care. Right now, his brother was in danger of being sent into the arena. "I volunteer!" he shouted as he climbed up on the stage, not even bothering to take the steps. "I volunteer as Tribute!"

Vira looked extremely surprised. There was excitement in her eyes though. "Goodness!" she exclaimed cheerfully. "Eager to go the Arena are we? I think protocol says we need to introduce the one who had been reaped and then ask for volun-"

"No," Dagan snapped sharply. He wasn't going to allow his brother to be brought up on the stage. His brother was stubborn just as he was faithful. The moment he got up on stage, there was no way he would allow Dagan to volunteer for him. Not without force anyway. Dagan couldn't afford to have his brother up here. He was already running up to him as he was. Thankfully, somebody in the seventeen-year-old boy section was blocking his way. "No, I'm going to the Arena. I am volunteering for the Games. I'm going now!"

Vira's eyes lit up with surprise. Clearly she wasn't use to somebody talking to her like that. But she didn't say anything more. "And who might you be?"

"Dagan Reinard."

"No!" Aviv screamed. "No Dagan! You can't volunteer for me! You can't!"

"Oh," Vira said and her eyes brightened. "Oh I see. Volunteering for your brother? My! He looks a lot like you! So cute!" Her moment of adoration aside, her tone took on a more serious tone. "I bet you're volunteering so he won't get all the glory aren't you? I see. I understand." She then turned to the crowd with a ridiculous excited grin on her face and said, "People of District Nine, I give you our Boy Tribute, Dagan Reinard!"

No one in the audience clapped. Instead, all they did was stare, dumbfounded. It made Dagan feel awkward. He was relieved when after half a minute Vira decided to skip the clapping part and to move on to the part where he had to shake hands with Ivy. For a moment Dagan didn't even look Ivy in the eye. All he did was look at her hand. He was sure that if he looked somebody in the eye he might sick and throw up too. Already his stomach was knotting up inside.

When he finally did look up though, he saw that Ivy had pity in her eyes. No, not pity, but sorrow. It was a common feeling that all the people expressed. But it seemed to be even more powerful when he looked in them. And he could also tell she was sending him a message with them.

_I'm sorry_. Those were the words behind the look in her eyes.

_Me too_, was the response he gave by using his eyes. _Me too_.


	16. Chapter 15: The Reaping of District Ten

**AN: Sorry about not updating in a while folks. I actually would have been able to update this sooner, but I had a stomach bug for two days. On top of that, I have to do summer work for my AP classes next year. So I ask that you please be patient. Maybe I'll have my next update up soon. Hopefully. **

**Let's have some fun shall we? I made a literature reference to book that is probably pretty popular. (Not like modern popular, but popular in the sense it's a classic.) The first person to give me the correct answer gets brownie points. :) **

**P. S. Brownie points have nothing to do with this story. They just mean I may just drop you some hints as to what may be happening in the fic. A light spoiler. ;) **

**Now then, I will shut up, and you can read.** **:) **

Chapter Fifteen

The Reaping of District Ten

"Get back here, you brat!" roared Uncle Vladimir in rage. From her room, Beriana heard shattering sounds coming from the kitchen/dining room of the house. There was a high-pitched scream of horror that chilled her blood. But no sooner had the chill come than it was replaced with fiery anger. Clenching her fists furiously, she threw the door open and looked at the scene that was unfolding. On the kitchen/dining room floor were the shattered remains of what looked to be some plates. The table was uneven, and chairs had been toppled. What had mostly caught Beriana's attention was the fact that her Uncle was chasing her little sister, holding one of his empty whiskey bottles in one hand while trying to grab her sister with the other. Her sister screamed again. "Bear! Bear, help me!"

Without a moment's hesitation Beriana rushed to the aid of the younger girl. While generally not one for violence, she was vicious when it came to protecting her. Using one of her clenched fists, she punched her uncle square in the chin. He yelped in surprise as he fell flat on his back in a daze. Clearly in his drunken state he had not expected it. Beriana knew her advantage wouldn't last long though. Quickly she and her sister, Elvina, ran to the room that they shared together. Sure enough, their Uncle was back on his feet within moments once he had managed to pull himself up by using the edge of the table as a ladder. "Get back here!" he shouted.

When she made sure her sister was safely inside, Beriana turned to the door and rushed to close it. She wasn't quite in time: her Uncle had reached his hand out in a futile attempt to reach her. He howled in agony as the door caught his hand. His howls filled the air and sent shivers down her spine. But she kept the door closed on it like a vice, pushing against the door with her shoulders to add some extra weight. After she figured it was good enough, she quickly opened the door enough for her Uncle to pull his hand out. As expected, he was too busy grunting and howling like a crazed animal to do anything except try to nurse it. Curse words spewed from his mouth like deadly poison but she slammed the door shut and locked it, muffling his voice slightly. She remained standing by the door for a few moments, waiting for her Uncle to try slamming his body against it like he usually did whenever these things happened. (This was the third time in a month.) But there was no such attempt on his part.

Sure that her Uncle wasn't going to try anything, Beriana turned to her sister. Elvina was sitting on the bed that they both shared. She was in a pink dress with a pink ribbon in her hair. The dress gave the impression of someone who was cheerful and happy. But right now, Elvina was anything but joyful. Her hands were covering her eyes, sniffling. Pain rushed through Beriana's heart when she saw her sister. Carefully, she walked over to the bed and sat down along the edge.

In a few moments, Elvina removed her hands. The tears that she had been covering were slipping down her cheeks. Some collected on her chin and rolled down her neck. Knowing what would come next, Beriana held her arms open. She was nearly knocked over as her sister wrapped her arms around her and buried face into the collar of Beriana's green dress.

Wrapping her arms around Elvina, Beriana held her close and tight. "Shh," she said softly and gently. "There, there, little one. Hush now." She hoped that this would help calm her sister. It was what their mother used to do back when she was well. Before she had gotten sick to the point of being unable to do anything besides lay in bed, trying to stay alive. Their father had died a year ago, trampled to death by a herd of cattle that got out of control during a massive storm that rolled through District Ten. One so large that it sent the cows into a stampede. Like a good cattle driver, their father and many other men had tried to wrangle the cows back up. Paul, one of the men who had worked alongside their father, had said that he tried roping in a cow. When he did though, the cow jerked suddenly and he fell out of the saddle. Before he could get back up and jump on his horse, one of the cows came roaring through and trampled over him. Then another. Then another. And they kept coming and coming, running him over. None of the other cattle drivers could reach him without getting hurt themselves. When the cows passed, Paul had gone to help him. But it was too late. During the stampede, his ribs had been broken, as were his pelvis, nose, neck, arms, and legs. He had bruises everywhere. To make matters worse, he was coughing up blood. For a moment he did look up weakly at Paul- said something which Paul thought might have been 'family' but he couldn't hear well- and then died. After his death, their mother had started to fall really ill. She had actually been ill about a year and a half after Elvina had been born, but her health deteriated sharply after their father passed, and they had to move in with their uncle and aunt so that their mother could get proper treatment.

The moment they moved into that house, Beriana knew it was a mistake. Her Uncle had taken up to drinking a few years ago, something he never use to do. That was until he and Aunt Lida lost their son, Beriana's and Elvina's cousin, Raquel. He had been reaped for the twenty-sixth Hunger Games and been killed during that year's Games. Drinking wasn't enough for their Uncle though. He had to take his frustration out on something. Usually, it was with one of the dogs that they kept in the backyard. But sometimes he would take it out on his nieces. Usually their Aunt would come to their rescue, but it was still unstable in the house. Beriana had sworn she would care and protect her sister, but she felt like she wasn't keeping her vow. It really frustrated her.

After ten minutes Beriana could hear Elvina starting to calm down. "Yes," Beriana said. "There we go. We're going to be fine. You're going to be fine." She didn't know how she could tell her sister this. Every time she said so, something always happened. The words felt like they didn't carry the same meaning that they use to. They felt overused. But she didn't know what else to tell her sister. Right now her sister needed hope. She needed as much of it as she could get, and there was very little as it was. Not with the way their mother's health was going. They had brought in a healer to check her condition. (Doctors were too expensive, only the very wealthy could afford them.) After she had examined their mother, she told them that she didn't really know. She would try various medications, but she doubted any of them could be done.

'I will be honest,' she had said, looking at Beriana specifically, as if knowing this would affect her the most. 'I don't think she will make it before the end of this year. I would say just keep hoping for the best, if you're a praying kind of folk perhaps that will help. Because the only thing that may save her is a miracle.'

Her thoughts returning to the present, Beriana held her sister a few inches from her, so that Elvina could see her eyes. "We're going to be fine," she said soothingly and reassuringly. "Everything happens a reason. It may be a long way, but we'll get there."

Elvina nodded and brushed the remaining tears from her cheeks. "I know we will," she whispered, her voice sounding small and weak. "I just miss Dad so much. And I hate this place. I hate seeing Mom suffer."

Beriana kissed her sister's forehead. "I know. But we'll make it. There's always dark before the morning. Just remember that."

They heard footsteps on the other side of the door and for a few moments they thought their Uncle was trying for a second attempt. The knock that came was gentle though. They could hear their Aunt's voice on the other side. "Girls, you can come out now. I managed to get your Uncle under control. Come out and say goodbye to your mother and then head straight to the Reaping. Your Uncle and I will make our way to the Square alone."

Beriana walked over and opened the door. She saw her Aunt standing there with a sad and worn expression on her face. Her face was lined with wrinkles and frown lines. Her once brown hair was now almost completely gray. When she looked at her, Beriana couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She loved her Aunt dearly. She was a kind and sweet lady. With her life had been thrown out of whack with the death of her son and now her sister near the point of death as well, her life must have been nearly just as rough as hers.

The two girls made their way to the spare room that had been set aside for their mother on the other side of the kitchen. The room actually use to belong to their cousin, but in the years of his death it had been used as storage. Their Aunt had cleared it out so that it could house their mother. When Beriana looked at her mother, she couldn't help but feel her heart crack. Her mother's frail body, her ragged breaths, her skin pinched so tightly over the bones. Before she had gotten sick she used to be beautiful. Radiant as the sun. Their father had even called her his sunshine back when he was alive. To see sickness pull down a woman so lively, especially one who was her own mother, was enough to make Beriana want to break down and cry. There were times that she did, but she always made sure she was alone when she did it. Or unless she was with her friend, Emre, who was the only friend that Beriana had who she could go to.

Their mother looked like she had just woke up. She hadn't had a decent night's sleep in over a year. So not only was she weak because of the illness, but she was always exhausted. Today though, she seemed to have slightly more energy than usual. Not enough to get out of bed. She would definitely not be able to attend the Reaping. But she was definitely making an effort to stay awake. Probably using any strength she usually reserved for the few times in the day she was up. She kissed both her daughters on the cheek and hugged them. "I'll see you soon," she said, her voice coming out only just above a whisper. "After the Reaping is over, come straight home so that I may see you. I will be sure to be awake when you arrive. Promise?"

Beriana and Elvina nodded. Elvina kissed their mother on her cheek. "We will Mom," she assured her. "We'll be back. We promise."

"Beriana. Y-y-you're the oldest. This is your sister's first Reaping. Be sure to look after her. Make sure she gets checked in and that she gets in the right group."

"I will Mom," Beriana said as she kissed her mother on the cheek. "I will. I promise. And I'll be sure we get back as soon as the Reaping is over. Now you get some rest. You're going to need it."

Beriana felt her mother grip her hand in hers. The hands that use to be so strong and gentle were now so weak it was amazing to think her mother use to be able to do anything with them. "May the good Lord go with you."

Smiling, Beriana said, "He does, always."

. . .

Kai stood with the rest of the sixteen-year-old boys in their designated section. Around him, he could see people filing into the the Square of District Ten. There was nervousness in the air. Nearby, the Peacekeepers marched in single-file lines, drilling. Capitol camera crew members had their cameras set up and the reporters were checking to make sure that they looked presentable to the cameras.

He sighed in exasperation. The people from the Capitol were really ungrateful at times. At least they had more than enough clothes to wear every single day. There were some people, like himself, who were stuck with having to wear the same outfit everyday. Or at least, an outfit similar to it. He heard a Capitol woman complaining how her dress was 'last season' and was completely out of style. Well, at least it fit. He had seen girls on the streets of District Ten who would probably _kill _to have her dress.

Another sigh escaped him. Perhaps he was being a little harsh. After all, if he grew up in a place with more than enough to eat and with more than enough clothes to wear, he would probably be the same way. In fact, he kind of wished he was like the Capitolites- the term for Capitol citizens that was used throughout Panem except for those who lived in the Capitol themselves. Ever since he was ten years old, Kai had been living on the streets of the Main Town of District Ten. The place where the Justice Building was located and the place where the Reapings were held. The Town was the only place where any major settlement was located in District Ten. There were farmsteads and small pockets of communities scattered, but most of the District was ranches. Because of it's principal industry being livestock, there were whole communities devoted to raising cattle and other animals. The Main Town was the only place where people didn't raise cattle. It was where the better half of District Ten lived. For the most part. Granted, there were people living on the streets just like him. People who had either lost their families and couldn't find anywhere else to to go. Or if they were like him, their families had kicked them out because they couldn't afford to take care of them.

He could still remember that day. His mother had passed away after losing a battle with a deadly fever. There were a few people who were killed because of that. To make matters worse, back then a new Peacekeeper had been established, and he wasn't all too kind in making sure that the workers of District Ten got decent pay for working the ranches. Wages had been cut supposedly because the rest of the District's budget had to be met. (Even though everyone knew it was because the Peacekeepers had wanted some extra luxury.) This had caused some arousal and a couple people even tried to stage a rebellion. Of course, it was put it out before the fire could really spread, the instigators executed by having their hands tied to one mule, and their legs tied to another. Then the mules were forced to walk in opposite directions until the men had been literally been stretched to the point all their limbs were pulled out of their sockets. And then until they were torn in half. That next day Kai's mother died. And then his father took him outside and told him to be gone. "There ain't nothing here for you boy. I can't afford to take care of you. I can't even feed myself. You'd be better off fending for yourself. At least you'll have a better chance of surviving than me."

Kai had been completely crushed. But when he tried to convince his father not to force him out on the streets he started throwing rocks at him. Not to necessarily harm him, but to scare him off. It worked for a couple of hours, but eventually Kai came back. He was only ten years old at the time and was stubborn like a mule. Before he even had a chance to plead to his father though, he let loose a dog. Where he had gotten the dog from, Kai didn't know. All he knew was that the dog was vicious, and had tried snapping at him. It chased him for near thirty minutes- with Kai running for his life until he finally found a tree to climb. He only just barely managed to scramble up it because he was so tired from running. The dog had barked and snapped trying to reach him for nearly an hour. Until finally the dog got bored of him and left.

After that, Kai vowed he would never return to see his father. Clearly he didn't want him there anymore. With no other choice, he began wandering in the opposite direction with nothing but the clothes on his back. He wandered for nearly six days, exhausted and hungry. And the only drink he ever got was from the watering holes that dotted District Ten. Watering holes which cattle used to drink. He felt like a vagabond, and he probably smelled like one too. He had tried washing up in one of the watering holes during the fourth day of his travel, but of course just as he had undressed a farmer had caught him and threatened to shoot him if he didn't get off his property. So needless to say, he hadn't bathed. And he was always cold at night. Though the days could get pretty warm in District Ten, the nights always seemed to be cold. And you had to watch out for rattlesnakes and any other creatures who might try and take a bite out of you. The fence that surrounded District Ten was only meant to keep things locked in, not to make sure anything didn't get in.

Finally, on the seventh day, he had reached the Main Town. But he was ragged and dirty. His face had been sunburned. Not to mention he could actually count his ribs. (He had had little weight on him to begin with because he was so thin for his age.) Nobody would help him. Whenever he went up to the shoppes to ask if they could spare him some food, the owners would just shoo him away. Yell at him for trying to beg. Calling him nasty names. One woman even beat him over the head with a broom. A man who sold produce threatened to let his dog after him, and after what he had experienced, Kai really didn't want to be chased by another dog.

By that evening, he was exhausted, thirsty, and hungry. What he wanted most was something to eat. He didn't even care if it was a small slice of bread or even the leftover half of a corn cob. That was when he tried digging around the garbage cans, but they had already been emptied that day. At the moment, he had given up hope. He threw himself to the ground and started weeping. Not just because of the fact that he was hungry or what his father had done to him, but about everything else that had happened. How one moment his life was relatively fine, no better or any worse than the rest of District Ten, and then everything just seemed to crumble.

And that's when it happened.

While he had been crying, he hadn't been paying attention to anything else. He was too busy focusing on the pain. He couldn't explain it, but it was like some force wanted him to look up. When he did, Kai found something he least expected. A girl his age, with light brown hair and light brown eyes. Her skin was lighter than most people in the District. Clearly she had been raised in the Town. Usually the only ones with lighter skin were from the Town, while those who were more tanned were workers in the fields. Which was actually what made Kai himself somewhat strange. He had stringy blond hair and his skin wasn't tan, but fair as well. His mom had been that way too, and she had come from the Town. There was a sorrowful look on the girl's expression. But that was all he saw before he saw her handing him something...a roll. His hand was too weak to accept it though, so she gently placed it in his hand. 'Take this,' she had said gently. Kai couldn't believe his luck. Someone had actually given him something to eat! Before he could thank her though, she disappeared. Leaving him alone to eat the roll, which he ate so slowly for fear that it was a dream, even though it was anything but.

It was not the last time he would see the girl though. Because after that day, he was given the hope that he could probably survive. The day that followed, he had actually managed to find some scraps in some garbage cans. And while he was walking down that same street, the girl came up to him and gave him yet another roll. The third day when he went through, the same thing happened. After the fourth day, he finally asked her what her name was.

'Madison Lenard,' she had said.

They had been best friends ever since. And as long as he always passed down her street (for it turned out she was a baker's daughter) she would give him a slice of bread. And during that time, they would talk about what they had done. She would discuss school. He would discuss how he angered the butcher by stealing a few scraps from his tins. Madison even read to him on occasion. Bringing out an old book that apparently had been written hundreds of years even before the Dark Days. The story was about a boy who did a lot of mischievous things, including tricking people into giving him apples in exchange for painting a fence! Kai loved listening to her read. She was able to use her voice to make the story come to life. When he had told her that, she blushed. Then told him she loved reading to him because he was a good listener. Not many people tended to. Her parents were always busy in the bakery, and her friends at school weren't the best of listeners either. Seeing him in the evening was the highlight of her day.

The sounding of the Anthem snapped Kai from his thoughts. Quickly, he focused on the stage, and watched that as the Anthem ended, people made their way onto the stage. The first person to make her way onto the stage was Nirvana Randar. She was a tall woman with green rings around her eyes that must have been tattooed. She had blue dyed hair, and she wore blue lipstick. Following her was the Mayor of District Ten, and then after her came District Ten's past Victors.

As the protocol demanded, the Escort from the Capitol and the former District Ten Victors took their seats while the Mayor stepped up to the podium. He then read the long and boring history of Panem. How it fell and such. Yeah, same thing different year. Then he went on to introduce the past Victors. Out of the thirty years there had been Hunger Games, there were only two. The first was Tory Loft. A woman in her early forties with dark hair and tan skin, she had won the eighth Hunger Games because of her surprising ability to wrestle. Apparently, she had to wrestle some of the small cows on her farm so they would get their necessary shots. This helped her take down and kill at least seven Tributes during her Games. The other Victor was Cody Dallas, who had won twenty-fourth Hunger Games. Like Tory, he had won because he was strong, and because of something else. He had managed to get in with the Career alliance. And when they least expected it, in the middle of the night, he slit their throats. Then all he had to do was take down a boy from District Six and he became Victor.

Once the Mayor finished, he stepped aside so Nirvana could take his place. She had been District Ten's Escort for six years, starting the year that Cody had become Tribute. Even so, very little about her had changed. Aside from her hair and the color of lipstick she wore. Last year it had been pink lipstick and pink hair. Now it seemed the latest trend in the Capitol were dark colors as long as they were balanced out by something light. Grinning from ear to ear she exclaimed, "Welcome everyone! Happy Hunger Games! And of course, may the odds be ever in your favor! I hope you're all just as excited as I am. I have literally been waiting for this day since last year. Enough about me. Today, it's about our lovely fresh Tributes who will be selected today! Now then, I shall draw the Tributes' names. Of course, we start with the ladies."

She walked over to the bowl with the girls' slips in them. Turning in the direction of the girls, Kai saw many of them were very nervous. Many of them had no doubt taken tesserae. No surprise there. He himself had taken tesserae and he was plenty nervous himself. He would willingly admit he would be one of the first ones gone. Probably killed in the Bloodbath. If not at least the first day. He just hoped it wasn't Madison.

Nirvana returned to podium and unfolded the slip she had chosen from the bottom of the bowl. "And our Girl Tribute for this year's annual Hunger Games is...Beriana Rhav!"

. . .

Beriana's mouth dropped in horror when she heard her name called. She wanted to scream. The girls that surrounded her began to whisper. Feeling her stomach begin to knot, she quickly made her way up to the stage. She was in the sixteen -year-old-girls section, so it didn't take too long. Still, it felt like one of the longest walks she had ever taken.

Nirvana helped her onto the stage and then presented her to the crowd, smiling all the while. "People of District Ten, I present to you your Girl Tribute!" There was some applause, but they weren't lighthearted. The people in District Ten did not see the Reaping as a special occasion. And the Tributes were never honored. They were looked at as if they were one of the animals that had been raised. With only the purpose to be slaughtered to satisfy the Capitol.

From where she stood, Beriana could see and hear her Aunt gasping in horror. Her Uncle's eyes opened wide in shock. And then they took on a distant look. Clearly he was having a flashback about the time when his own son had been chosen to enter the Hunger Games. There was a sad look in his eyes. A look that Beriana had rarely seen him give. Perhaps it was because that he actually felt sorry for her? Or for Beriana's mom, his sister-in-law? Because like him, her child was now going to have to fight in the Hunger Games and possibly die? She didn't know. But judging from the sounds that were coming from the back of the crowd, she did know that her sister was crying.

On their way to the Reaping, Beriana had assured Elvina that nothing bad would happen to her. Their Aunt and Uncle had come from the Town, so luckily there was no need for tesserae. Most of the people in the Town never had to because they had food. She didn't take tesserae, and because it was her first year, she wouldn't picked. If she did, then Beriana was going to volunteer for her. This of course led to some protests on Elvina's part, but they didn't have enough time to argue about it because they had to check in and get in their groups.

Despite her reassurances, Beriana had been wrong. Something bad had happened to Elvina. She was going to have watch her sister fight in the Arena against twenty-three other Tributes and whatever the Gamemakers came up with. If anything, that was probably worse than being picked yourself. At least when you were killed in the Arena, the pain went away. Whereas if you had to watch somebody die on a screen in front of you, it would hurt and haunt you forever.

She had been so busy thinking about her misfortune that Beriana hadn't even noticed that Nirvana had selected a slip from the Boy's Bowl until her Capitol-accented voice rang through the microphone announcing the name. "Kai Delloom!"

Beriana watched as a very thin and lanky blond haired boy made his way up to the stage. He was pale to begin with, but now he looked really pale. There was hardly any muscle on him. His hair was thin and wiry. And the clothes he wore weren't the most impressive things she had ever seen. Clearly he was one of the homeless people in District Ten. She felt sorry for him almost at once. When he stood beside her, she reached her hand out and grasped his, which was trembling, to try and comfort him. But she realized now that she had to push those thoughts aside. She knew she didn't stand much of a chance in the Arena. But dang it, she was not going to back down so easily. She was going to try with everything she had to get back to her sister.

The thought made her feel sick to her stomach. But she could bear it. If it meant getting back to her sister, she could bear almost anything.


	17. Chapter 16: District Eleven's Reaping

**AN: Well guys, hard to believe, but after this chapter we only have one more Reaping chapter. Wow. **

**Oh yeah. I am now involved in a major project. Want to take a guess in what that project is? If you guessed an epic collaboration fic with twenty-three others, you are correct. Twentry-three others and myself are coming together to write an ultimate collaboration fic. It will be set in a Hunger Games, and each author's job will be to write about said Tribute up until they meet their ends. One author's tribute will win, the rest will fall. The story itself is called "Dreams of Blood." Right now we're mostly getting things organized, but we may have some stuff out soon. :) **

**Ok, I will shut up so you can read. :)**

Chapter Sixteen

The Reaping of District Eleven

Dante Lupin took a seat at the table and looked at the plate of eggs that his mother had made for him and the rest of their family. Along with the eggs, there was also a couple of pieces of bacon. The scent of it still clung to the air. Anyone who entered the kitchen would have felt their mouths salivating with longing. Somehow his mom had managed to include some slices of oranges to the meal. The fruits were considered a delicacy in District Eleven, hardly anyone got one that wasn't even the slightest bit rotten. These ones however were perfectly fresh. Almost as if they were just picked from one of the orange trees that grew in the orchards that dotted the District. "Where did you get the oranges, Mama?" he asked her in curiosity.

His mother was still standing by the stove of their kitchen, cleaning up some grease that the bacon had left behind in the pan it had been cooked in. A delicate woman with dark skin and wavy dark hair, Dante's mother was very beautiful for somebody who was forty years old. Kind of hard to believe, considering the harsh life she had lived for nearly twenty years. She smiled while scrubbing a pan, probably glad to occupy herself with something while cleaning the dirtied dish. (She wasn't very fond of doing dishes.) "I didn't get them. I found them outside the door a couple of days ago."

"Really? Who dropped them off?"

"I honestly don't know. But there were some flowers too. Daisies!" Her smile grew larger. "You know how long it's been since anyone ever gave your Mama daisies?"

Dante smiled. "I'm guessing it was a long time." That wasn't the reason for the smile though. Secretly, he guessed who had given her the flowers.

"Two years before you were even born!"

His eyes widening in shock, the only thing Dante could say was, "Wow."

His sister, Holly, walked into the kitchen. At sixteen years old, she was only two years younger than him and the second oldest. Many guys considered Holly to be very beautiful. Like their mother and like Dante, Holly had wavy dark hair and dark skin. Despite her beauty though, she was as rugged as any boy could possibly be. Her arm muscles were developed from working in the fields. She didn't take nonsense from anyone. Which was a lot, considering she had to work with twenty guys about her age in a field. Whenever those guys bragged about how strong he was, flexing his arm muscles, being arrogant and cocky in hopes he would impress her, she wasn't afraid to put him in his place. She sent one guy home with a spranged ankle and another guy she left him nose bleeding and with three of his teeth missing. "Wow what?" she asked as she took a seat on Dante's right.

"Mama hadn't received daisies from anyone since two years before I was born."

Holly's eyes widened in shock. "What? Really? Dang, no wonder you're always staring at the flower shoppe window."

Their mother started laughing. "Come on you two, you're making me feel old," she said. And in a defiant tone she said, "And I do not always stare out the flower shoppe window! I only look when I see flowers I like!"

"Uh-huh, sure," Holly said in her teasing sarcasm.

Their had finished cleaning the grease from the pan and was now washing her hands. Drying them off with a blue towel, she then made her way over to the table. "Where are your sisters?" she asked.

"They're still getting their dresses on for the Reaping," said Holly.

Dante's mother nodded. "Girls!" she called, loud enough for them to hear but not harshly. "Better hurry on up. Your eggs are going to get cold!"

"We're coming!" came a shout from the bedroom that Dante's sisters all shared. The voice belonged to the second youngest of the four kids, Eglantine. "Liliac can't find a ribbon to tie her hair in though."

"I have one in my room she can borrow. You two best come out here and eat. Cold eggs never settle well in a stomach."

A few seconds later the two youngest of the Lupin children stepped out. The first one to come out was Eglantine Rose. She was sixteen years old and she was always talkative and cheerful. There were some days where she could talk for hours on end and never get tired of it. (Of course, some people did.) A smile always seemed to be on her face. The Reaping was today, and while it was not something to really celebrate, Eglantine was one of those people who refused to let the awful things in life get her down. To reflect the cheerful mood she was always in, she wore a bright orange dress which framed her sturdy body nicely. After her came the youngest of the Lupin children, Liliac. Lilac was fifteen years old, and was considered the most innocent of them all. She was always able to to look on the bright side of things, and the world had failed to taint her despite what it had thrown. She was also considered the most adorable, especially when she put her hair up in ponytail with one of her ribbons. No matter how old she got, Dante would always see his youngest sister as that cute little school girl always skipping down the street. Her hair bouncing up and down against her back as she did.

However, when you looked at the two youngest of the Lupins, you could tell that there was something different about them than the rest of the Lupins. They didn't have dark skin like their mother or their two older siblings. Instead their skin was more tanned, almost olive colored. Their noses were thin, their cheekbones were angled, and their lips were thinner. The only evidence of their mother was the wavy dark hair and brown eyes.

That was because even though their mother was Calla Lupin, they didn't have the same father. Dante's and Holly's father was a man named Jason Lupin. Like their mother, he had dark skin. His eyes however were very cold, they were black like coals. His hair was dark as well. He was built like an ox, and just as strong. When he was outside in public, he kept an air of charisma, charming anyone he ever talked to. At home though, he had been a completely different person. The friendly man revealed a dark side that only his family knew about. He was abusive both physically and mentally. Even after four years, Dante, Holly, and his mother still carried the scars from times he abused them. Their mother bore nearly twice as many as her children because his attacks were focused on her. It was no wonder their mother had been seeing another guy on the side.

That guy was Marcus Fray. A kind man who had been their mother's friend since they were both children, despite their differences in skin color. Marcus had been there when nobody else would. The result of the first time she had gone to him for support led to even more visits. And then sometime during those visits, she had gotten pregnant with his child, Eglantine. Dante's mother had managed to hide the fact that the father of the child growing in her womb wasn't Jason's until finally the baby came and it was obvious that her looks did not favor him. The attacks on Dante's mom became even more violent. Which led to her returning to Marcus for visits, and then a few months later she was pregnant again. Same as last time, she had managed to hide the fact that the father was not Jason Lupin until the baby was born. Which of course, led to even more attacks. Except this time, Jason made sure that neither she or any of the children could ever be able to escape to Marcus. Threatening them with death and everything else you can imagine.

The years were torturous. When Dante had first started school, he had started to see that his family situation wasn't normal. His friends would talk about how much their fathers loved them and talk about things they did. It made him feel out of place. Which was why he hid his family situation from all of his friends. For nine years, he hid the fact that his father, so likeable in public, was actually one of the darkest and most violent men you could ever meet. During those years, Dante tried to distract his father from beating his mother as much as possible. It wasn't hard. By now, his father disliked all of his kids because he suspected that she had cheated on him with Marcus _before_, and that all of them were of Marcus's spawn. (Which they weren't, of course. Both Dante and Holly knew they were pretty much dark skinned just like their mother and father and like most people in Eleven.) He also tried to keep his father's anger trained on him so that he could never attack his sisters. Especially Eglantine and Lilac, because you needed to only look at their physical features to see that they were Marcus's. To their father, they were constant reminders of the fact that his wife had cheated on him. It wasn't just their father's abusiveness that had made life hard. Money was hard to come by. Their mother worked as a healer in her own little shoppe in the Main Town, but it was hardly enough to get by. Their father never helped out in the fields. All he did was stay home and drink and do whatever else he did. So after school, Dante and Holly would walk their sisters over to the shoppe where their mother worked and drop them off. Then they would work in the fields for a few hours with the many other kids in District Eleven, who were trying to earn money for their families as well. The work had been hard and strenuous. Just like Holly, Dante received a lot of muscle because of it. Still he wasn't powerful enough to defend his family from their father.

Finally when he was fourteen years old, just when Dante couldn't take it anymore and was about to come up with a plan to kill his father, a miracle happened. His father had been arrested! Apparently, over the past ten years, crops had been disappearing in abundances from the more wealthier farmers in District Eleven. But it wasn't happening randomly, it was happening in a precise and calculated manner. Like it was being devised. During the first few years, people had thought it was just animals. Eventually though, investigating Peacekeepers who were knowledgable on the subject began to suspect a man-run operation had been taking place. And apparently, Dante's father had been the head of it. So they arrested him, and executed him. Even though his father had been abusive towards him, Dante did feel slightly awful for him. When he had told Holly that, she said she didn't understand why. He recalled her saying once, 'The asshole is gone. I do not feel the least bit sorry for him. I will never be able to forgive him for what he did to us and our mother. How can you feel sorry for him?' He honestly couldn't think of an answer. Even now, after four years, he still couldn't.

When their father- or in Eglantine's and Lilac's case "adopted" father- had been executed, things had started looking up for their family. For the most part. Not long after the execution, Dante learned something interesting about his friend Peter Lightwood, who was blond and had fair skin and blue eyes. Apparently, Peter was actually the godson of Marcus Fray- the one who is mother had cheated on and who was the father of his two half-sisters. So after school one day, Dante told his friend everything that he had been suffering through for the past nine years. Needless to say, Peter was shocked. He had suspected that something had been going on for years from the way he was always acting, but if he had known that that was what was happening he would have done something. Dante told him that it was alright. Still Peter insisted he do something to make up for it. And that was when he went to his godfather and asked him to help his friend. Of course, Marcus was more than happ too. Being one of the richest people in the District- short only of the Mayor and the Peacekeepers- and because he loved Dante's mother so much, he helped her get a new house in the Town. For the whole family, it felt amazing to leave behind the home that had felt like a prison for nine years.

There was a problem though. After the execution, the Peacekeepers decided someone needed to pay for all the crops that Dante's father and his operation had taken. Without even a fair trial or any reasons given than the fact that it was ordered by the government, Dante's mother had been told she had to pay off all the debts. Those debts were thousands of dollars in Panem dollars. Dante and Holly found themselves working harder than ever in the fields while their mother worked long and strenuous hours in her apothecary shoppe. Eglantine and Lilac worked alongside her, trying to make her job less straining. Meanwhile, Marcus was trying to help as well, but for once their mother wouldn't let him. She had told him one day when he asked why she wouldn't let him, 'It's not right for you to keep paying off my debts. I'll never be able to survive in this world if you keep helping me. I appreciate it very much. But I have to do this on my own.'

With all the money going towards settling their father's debt, Dante knew they would never be able to survive. They could barely afford to pay the rent on the house. Marcus was very forgiving if payments were late by at least two weeks, but that was as far as it could go. Plus there needed to be food. Which was why Dante had taken to stealing some food from some of the fields. He hated it. For one, that was the very reason why they were struggling in the first place, because of their father's criminal acts. And for two, he felt guilty for stealing it. Some of the farmers were very nice people who treated him decently. Yet he was betraying them by taking some of their crops. Not enough for it to be noticeable, but a couple of apples would go missing here, an orange would disappear from a tree; or some peaches. Perhaps the occasional vanishing of lettuce and carrots. He never even told his family. Just said that a farmer he worked for was in such desperate need of labor he paid people in food. He knew it was wrong, but what other choice did Dante have?

"Dante, stop staring off into space," his mother scolded. "Better finish up 'em eggs or they won't sit well. That orange ain' getting any fresher either."

Quickly Dante snapped out of his flashback and went back to eating. In a few hours the Reaping would be held. And he wasn't looking forward to it. He had taken out tesserae. And because he was eighteen years old, he had some of the highest number of slips that anyone in District Eleven could possibly have. All of them had taken out tesserae. Even Lilac. It hurt Dante to see her have to, but there was no other choice. Today, any one of them could be selected and forced to take part in the Hunger Games.

Needless to say, he was pretty scared stiff.

. . .

When you stand in the Square of District Eleven, you can feel the fear and uncertainty in the air. It was like a thick fog that wrapped around you. Closing in tighter and tighter until you could barely breathe. No matter where you turned there was no way out. All the people around you were the same way. The only thing you could do was hope that everything would be okay.

That's how Sadilito Rivers, or "Sadie" as she preferred to be called, thought of it. As she stood in the Square with the rest of the thirteen-year-old girls. Around her, you could literally see people huddling together in groups holding hands and trying to whisper to one another that everything would be fine.

Sadilito turned to her friend, Lilian. The two of them had been best friends since they were in their first year of school. They both had dark hair, milk chocolate skin, and brown eyes. However, Sadie's hair was short and thick, and Lilian's was a little more longer and thinner. Lilian was also tall for her age. Sadie on the other hand was kind of short. She didn't like it much, but she had learned to live with it. In District Eleven, you learned to accept your body from a young age. If you didn't, you were in for a pretty miserable life. That was because in Eleven, despite the fact the majority of the people were dark skinned, it was the people with the lighter skin colors who got the best chances in making a livelihood. They were the ones who owned most of the shoppes and did most of the trading. The ones with the best education and the ones with the most probable chance to not have their kids entered for tesserae.

Sadie and Lilian held each other's hands, squeezing in reassurance. Together they both hoped that neither one of them or any of their brothers or sisters would be picked for the Hunger Games. Around them, people were pouring into the Square. The crowd was starting to get larger and larger. So large that the Square alone wasn't enough for all the people to fit. Some had to be led to other nearby streets, where they could watch the Reapings from televisions that had been set up. District Eleven was a vast District, with it's population spread out far and wide between various orchards and plantations in communities that could sometimes be pretty large or pretty small. The largest of the towns of course was the Main Town, where the Reapings were held. In fact, in terms of land area, District Eleven was the largst, with over sixty percent of that land being orchards and plantations. Unlike many of the other vast Districts though, it also had a very high population density. The population in District Eleven was actually the highest of all the lower Districts. In fact, it had one of the highest populations in all of Panem- with only District Eight outranking it. The reason for the high number of people were because of the huge families. The average family usually had at least five kids in it. Lilian had four sisters and three brothers. Due to the immense families, strong senses of family bonds developed. It was frowned upon if you disobeyed your parents. It was important you settled any disputes between you and your siblings. Men were expected to ask a girl's father for permission before they asked a girl to marry them. All families usually had reunions at least once a year so that everyone could gather together. And when somebody in your family died, no matter how distant, you were expected to be there.

In a way, Sadie knew her family was a rarity Her parents had only had her brother and her. She had wondered why they didn't have any more kids, but she didn't ask. For some reason, her parents always grew sad whenever she asked if she could have a little sister. If there was anything she wanted more, Sadilito wanted a little sister. She loved her brother, but he was a couple of years older than her and the two of them didn't always have the same interests. Perhaps it was because of that reason she always looked as Lilian as her sister. The two of them were certainly as close to sisters as friends could be without being related. Besides, family was what you made it, wasn't it?

"Do you think we will be reaped?" she asked Lilian.

Lilian shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose it's possible," she said. "But then again, there's so many people in District Eleven. So it's kind of hard to imagine. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I was just thinking. Nobody really thinks that they are going to be Reaped aren't they? They think it will never happen to them. But then for some reason the odds weren't in their favor and they get picked."

"I guess so, I'll be honest, I never thought about it much."

They were silent after that. Inwardly, Sadilito sighed. That was one of the few things that set her apart from Lilian. Lilian thought, but she never really observed stuff. She didn't think as deeply and emotionally as Sadilito did. In fact, not many girls she knew did. Most of them either worried about what guy was crushing on them or how they looked or what so-and-so said about them. Very few of them ever really wondered why things were the way they were. Where did the Capitol see entertainment in twenty-four kids fighting each other to death? How could they subjugate the Districts the way they did? Why did they do it? What gave them the right to? Weren't they all human beings with the power to think and do things? These were some of the questions she found herself pondering whenever Reaping Day came along.

Just at that moment, the Anthem started to play. All the humming from early stopped, discussions silenced as all eyes turned to the stage. When the Anthem finished, four people made their way onto the stage. The first one to appear was of course the District Escort, Maria Wingdancer. Maria was a small woman who was actually dark skinned. She wore an acid yellow scarf around her neck, her hair had been styled into a beehive shape and dyed with yellow streaks making it look like a huge bee of sorts. She had a golden ring in her lip. Her dress was a lime green color and it sparkled with every step she took. She also wore heels that were about six inches thick, making her taller than what she was actually. All smiles, she waved to the audience and blew kisses to the crowd. The Capitolites who were serving as camera crews and reporters were definitely enjoying her performance, but everyone else just stared. Even though she had been their Escort for nearly ten years, Maria was still a bizarre sight to see. After Maria Wingdancer came the Mayor of District Eleven, a man named Malcom Vance. Malcom was a raven-haired man with olive skin and gray eyes. Many of the people frowned at him and some even booed. Those who did were quickly silenced by the Peackeepers, who stood nearby in case a scene broke out. Mayor Vance wasn't very popular. And it wasn't because he was a different skin color than most of the District. It was because he did little to help the District. The only thing he ever really did was attend fancy parties and eat all the time, explaining the potbelly he had developed. There was also a rumor going around that he actually paid women in food in to sleep with him. Whether it was true or not, Sadilito didn't know. Regardless, it was for that reason he was greatly despised. Following the Mayor were the two past Victors of District Eleven, who had non-readable expressions on their faces.

Another series of boos came from the crowd as Mayor Vance came to the front of the stage to retell the history of Panem. It was basically the same old story but a different year. Everyone knew it. In fact, Sadie knew her mother could recite the whole history of Panem by heart. (She had done it once a few years back.)

When the Mayor finished retelling the history of Panem, he then went on to introduce the past Victors of District Eleven. In the thirty years there had been Hunger Games, only two had ever won. The first one to win was Kareem Thomas, who won the third Hunger Games. A lean but well-built dark skinned man, he won because of his ability to tell poisonous plants from edible ones. In the Games that year, there had been no food in the packs provided. Tributes had to get food by looking for it in the arena. Problem was, many of the plants were identical, and could only be told apart by precise knowledge. In just the first day alone, fourteen people had died in those Games. The first eight had died in the Bloodbath, and the other six died because they ate poisonous berries. Because of his knowledge, Kareem was able to last pretty far in his Games until it finally came down between him and a boy from District Seven. The other Victor was Sandra Cain, who was dark skinned just like Kareem. She had won the twentieth Hunger Games through a variety of methods. First, she had managed to create an alliance with four other Tributes. However, she never told the other Tributes about the other alliances she had made. Second, she learned various skills from them that she didn't previously know, such as how to set snares or to how to set pit traps. Third, she dissolved their alliance when she couldn't learn anymore from them. Then she let the elements and other competitors to kill them off while she thrived on the lessons they taught her. When she was in the final four, she was as healthy as an ox. Thanks to the help of a dart blower she had taken off one girl she was in an alliance with, she used it to pick off the final competitors. The people in District Eleven thought she was a dirty player and she was practically shunned wherever she went. The Capitol loved her though.

After he finished introducing the past Victors, Mayor Vance returned to his seat. Maria Wingdancer took his place at the front. She smiled broadly for the audience and waved. Then she immediately took on a serious persona. Despite her flashiness, Maria was one to take her job very seriously. "Welcome everyone!" she exclaimed. "As you all know, the time for the thirtieth annual Hunger Games has come. Today, a boy and girl will be selected to participate in a pageant of honor and glory for all of Panem to see. As protocol says, I will start with the ladies first."

Everyone grew silent as Maria made her way over to the bowl with the girls' slips in them. Sadilito felt her heart skip a beat as Maria slipped her hand in, having to lean a little bit because she was so short. When she finished shuffling, she pulled out a name. Again, Sadie felt her heart skip a beat. She thought if it kept doing that, she may just fall dead in the middle of the crowd. So she took in a deep breath and tried to keep herself under control.

After unfolding the slip of paper, Maria then read the name. "Our lucky contestant is...Sadilito Rivers!"

Sadie's eyes opened in shock. A gulp ran down her throat. People who knew her gasped. She even felt Lilian's hand drop in surprised horror. Slowly, Sadilito made her way up to the stage. Against all hope she prayed that somebody would take her place. Anyone at all. But she knew better than to try. District Eleven wasn't a District known for its volunteers.

When she had accepted that fact. She immediately started thinking about strategies. Considering the fact that she was more than likely not the strongest or biggest person in the Games, she had probably try a different tactic than just going around killing people. Perhaps she could stay away. Yes, that would be a good idea. She was also a good tree climber. If there were trees, that would come in handy. Suppose there weren't any? What if it was a tundra or something? Would there be anything for her to climb in at all?

She decided on perhaps holding off on strategizing for a little bit. At least until she knew who the other Tributes were. Her District Partner still needed to be announced after all. So she focused in on Maria, watching as she selected a boy's name from the boys' bowl and then returned to the front to read the name.

"Dante Lupin."

. . .

Dante stood in the front of the crowd, so it wasn't that far of a walk. But it felt like one of the longest he had ever taken. Carefully, he made his way through the crowd. People stepped aside so he could make his way through the crowd.

Just as he was about to climb on stage, Dante turned and saw Peter. His friend's face was fixed with horror. It didn't make Dante feel any better. There was nothing that could be done. He had been picked. All those years of applying for tesserae had finally taken their toll. Deep down, he had always had a feeling that he would be selected for the Games. This was his final year, and he had started to think that perhaps he wouldn't. Next year he would be free, no longer having to be in the Reaping. He would have been able to get a job full-time. Finally be able to rake in some more money to help pay off the debts they owed for what his father had taken.

He pushed those thoughts aside though. Right now, he needed to worry about coming home alive. When he looked at the crowd, he could see the rest of his friends. Except for Peter, Dante literally had no other friends who were guys. All the rest were girls. He could see Blanca Villa and Sophia Villa, cousins even though they were different in terms of race. They were trying to comfort Holly, who was screaming her head off in disbelief. He saw his friends Clarissa and Athena Faye. The two of them were twins, yet even from where he stood he could tell them apart. Clarissa's hair was wavy and she was short, while Athena was kind of tall and her hair was longer and straight. Clarissa had her hands full trying to comfort both Athena and Eglantine. He could see that two people were making their way towards the back of the crowd, and saw that his friends Audra and Adella Aella were making their way to Lilac, who had broken into tears. The sight made his heart shatter and his stomach feel sick.

He did his best to try and hold the sickness back, but he couldn't. As he shook hands with Sadilito Rivers, he felt something coming up his throat. He turned his head aside so he wouldn't throw up on her. In the process, he ended up vomiting all over Maria Wingdancer's lime-green dress. She shrieked in horror and disbelief and Dante thought he could hear the whole audience laughing as she ran off the stage screaming her head off, "Ew! Ew! Ew! Get it off me! Get it off me!"

Dante tuned her out though. He was getting sick again. He had just threw up on live television. The whole audience was going to look at him and call him weak. If he couldn't keep himself strong when being called on stage, how the heck was he suppose to last in an arena? Nobody was going to sponsor a Tribute who kept getting sick whenever something bad happened.

Already, Dante could feel his hopes giving up.


	18. Chapter 17: District Twelve's Reaping

**AN: Here we go guys. This is marks the final chapter of Reapings. It took nearly two months, a lot of research, and a lot of hours on the computer. But here we are. The next chapter after this we start the goodbyes and possibly the train rides to the Capitol. Depending on how long they are and whether they would be better separated or not. We will have to wait and see. **

**In other news, there has been a recent cast change. The person who originally sent me the Male Tribute for Twelve, anifreakazoid, had been unable to provide me with a profile for his/her character. The original profile had been in a review and when this fic was caught in the Purge, it was lost as well. So sadly, Iain Trescott had to be taken out. Instead, we now have a new Tribute borrowed from the generous Ariel, better known as Ariyah. **

**Let's give a round of applause to every single person who has allowed me to borrow a Tribute for this fic. They truly are amazing people. I have enjoyed every single one of them, including the Tributes who had presented slight challenges for me. Every single one of them was a lot of fun, and I am pumped and ready for whatever happens next. **

**Sorry for the long author's note. Now then, I'll shut up and you can read. :) **

Chapter Seventeen

The Reaping of District Twelve

Outside of the butchery Gabe Wilcox could hear District Twelve coming alive. As he sat in a chair patiently waiting for the right time to go to the Reaping, he watched through the window as Capitolites set up their cameras and started fixing themselves up so they appeared good enough on TV. The sound of Peacekeepers marching and drilling in the Square caused the walls and the floor to vibrate. The sounds of the footfalls made Gabe feel slightly uneasy. He rested his elbow on his leg. He rested his chin in one of his hands. and waited for his family to get finished with getting ready for the Reaping. They had their own house behind the butchery, and it was important for somebody to watch it if everyone else was doing something. They locked it only at night, and the only time that it was ever locked was Reaping Day, always an hour before the actual Reaping ceremony started.

There was the jingle of a bell and Gabe turned in the direction of the door. Entering the butchery was a woman in her early thirties with dark hair and gray eyes. Her face was round and her nose was narrow. The lines that formed around her lips showed many years of stress, as well as the shock of gray that was running through her dark hair. He recognized this woman. She was one of their more frequent customers, even for a Seam woman. The people who lived in the Seam were considered the lower class, the ones who barely had enough to survive. Quite different from the better-to-do Merchant class, which was the social class Gabe and his family hailed from. "Hello Mrs. Linder. How are you doing today?" he asked.

The woman shrugged. "Just about as good as any other person in District Twelve," she said, a note of depression in her voice. She walked over to the counter the place for those who wanted to make an order or ask to trade stood behind. "Is your father here?"

"I'm afraid he's home, getting ready for the Reaping though."

A disappointed look appeared on Mrs. Linder's face. "Do you think he will be ready soon? I want to trade this here squirrel for some ham." She then held up a squirrel. It was big compared to most squirrels, and had a nice grayish brown fur. It's eyes were wide open and cold, it's mouth slightly agape in death.

His mouth opening in surprise, Gabe walked over to the counter and stood beside her. "May I see him?" he asked.

She nodded, and handed him over to her. Taking the squirrel in his hands, he held it carefully. Testing the weight and checking the condition of it. After examining it, he saw that there was a massive wound on the squirrel's head. The skull was cracked in a very vulnerable spot, and it no doubt had probably pierced a vital area of the brain. Overall, a blow that would have killed within a few seconds. After examining it for a few more minutes, he asked, "How did you get him? You send Lenny or Will to track him down in the forest or something?" Lenny and Will were Mrs. Linder's two sons. The two of them were three years apart, but they looked very much alike with their dark hair, olive skin, gray eyes, and squarish features, which were easily recognizable as features of Mr. Linder.

Mrs. Linder chuckled, a smile beaming on her face. "No, I didn't send the two boys to hunt him. Though I don't doubt that they could. Almost squirrels themselves with the way they climb about. But we're just not risk-takers when it comes to those sort of things. Not like the Everdeens." The Everdeens were a family that lived in the Seam, and were notorious for breaking the laws when it came to hunting and fishing. Only reason why they hadn't been arrested was because they managed to hide what they do, and no neighbors wanted to report them. "No, this one climbed over the fence." The fence that surrounded District Twelve, trapping everyone inside and supposedly to help keep animals out was supposed to be electrified twenty-four hours, seven days a week. But electricity was hard to come by in Twelve. The people in the Seam didn't have it. And only a lucky few living in the Merchant class like Gabe's family did. Due to the lack of electricity, it was probable that occasionally an animal could make its way into Twelve. Mrs. Linder contined speaking. "He was climbing over the fence, and Will spotted him. He always likes to sit in the backyard and watch the woods before the Reaping. When he realized how big it was, he went and threw a rock at the squirrel." She then pointed at the spot where the skull had shattered. "Got him right there."

Gabe was impressed. He handed the squirrel back to Mrs. Linder. She held it by the tail. "Will has a good aim."

Mrs. Linder smiled. "Aye, he does."

There was a sound from the back of the butchery. Both Gabe and Mrs. Linder turned and saw Gabe's twin brother, Michael, come in from the the back door which led out into the yard of their house. Michael had gray eyes and blond hair that was tinged a slight red, just like Gabe. Like Gabe, his skin was slightly pale and his cheeks were also ruddy. The two boys were also well-developed in muscle. With these physical similarities though, there were also some differences. Michael was broad shouldered and slightly stout, even though he was about five foot, ten inches. Gabe stood at over six feet, which even he didn't understand how, though his mother said he probably got it from one of his great uncles. Also, he was more thinner, and not as broad-shouldered. Though his muscles were well developed they were nowhere near as well compacted as Michael. When Michael saw Mrs. Linder, he beamed happily and said, "Hello Mrs. Linder. How are you doing this morning?"

"Same as anyone else I guess," she responded. "It's the Reaping you know."

Michael nodded. He noticed that the squirrel that Mrs. Linder was holding. "Come to make a trade?"

She nodded. "Yes, this squirrel climbed over the fence into my yard. My son Will threw a rock at him and hit his head, killing him instantly."

"A very decent kill." Michael held his hand out and Mrs. Linder handed the squirrel to him. After examining it closely, he said, "I think this squirrel is worth about a pound of ham."

Her eyes widened in shock. "A pound?" she asked. Gabe was just as surprised. Sure the squirrel was big compared to some, but it wasn't necessarily worth a pound of ham. Maybe a half or three-quarters, but not a pound. However he decided to say nothing. Admittedly, Gabe wasn't the most knowledgeable when it came to estimating how much meat was worth. Even though he grew up working alongside his brother and father in butchery, he never really took a fancy to the job. Instead, he had taken more of a liking to transporting coal. Ever since he could remember he was always fascinated by the trains that pulled into District Twelve once a week to transport the coal to the Capitol for it to be delivered to the rest of Panem. If he could have any job in the world, he would be on one of those trains and be a conductor.

Michael nodded. "Yep, hold on a couple of minutes and I'll get you the ham."

They waited patiently, and as Michael said, soon he had a pound of ham with him. Smiling kindly at Mrs. Linder, he handed her the ham. "There you go."

Mrs. Linder smiled gratefully. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Yep. See you later. Have a good day."

"I'll try, might be very hard though. Both of my sons had to take tesserae. I didn't want them to, but we had no choice. Especially with how low John's wages are. The odds are not in our favor."

"Something can always happen," Michael pointed out.

"I guess we'll see." She then thanked them one more time and went out the door, the little bell ringing as she left.

When she had passed by the window, Gabe asked, "So why did you let her have a pound? That squirrel was only worth about half. She even said so herself when she and I were talking."

Michael shrugged. "Guess I was just feeling sympathetic today. Today is always a hard day. Especially for the ones who live in the Seam."

"Yeah, both her boys taking tesserae. Hard to believe."

"I can't even imagine having to sign up for tesserae. I mean, my name being in there six times is enough to make me feel sick. But to have numbers ranging in the thirties and forties...," he shook his head. He then turned to the squirrel that Mrs. Linder had given them. "You don't think Dad would be mad, right?"

"Why would he? You saw him go easy on that one man last year when he brought in a turkey and gave him about three pounds of pork."

"Yeah, just making sure." Michael then glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. "Shoot, almost half an hour until Reaping starts. Better get moving and sign in."

"Yeah, where's Daisy at?"

"Right here!" came a voice. The two brothers turned to see their twelve year old sister enter the butchery. She wore a gray-blue dress that came down past her ankles and she had her reddish blond hair in a braid. Smiling in slight embarrassment, she said, "Sorry about that, Mom was working on my braid."

Gabe shook his head. "No, it's okay. Let's just get on over there before we're late." From the way she stood, he could tell his sister was nervous. It was her first Reaping, it was only expected. But she really had very little to worry about. Twelve-year-olds were hardly ever picked. And especially kids from the Merchant class. In the past ten years, it was mostly kids from the Seam who had been picked.

"Kind of hard to be late," Daisy said, "When we're so close to the Square."

"Let's get moving though anyway. If we're lucky, we may be able to talk with our friends for a bit before the Reaping starts."

"You mean say goodbye to them?" she asked. The two boys opened their mouths to reply, but couldn't think of anything. "One boy and one girl are always reaped," she continued. "It could be any one of our friends. Even one of us."

"You're right," Gabe said. "It's possible for any one of us to be picked. There is one thing we have to remember though."

"What's that?"

"No matter what happens, we still love and care for one another. That's the one thing a Reaping can't destroy."

. . .

Gardenia Ice stood with the rest of the sixteen-year-old girls in the designated section. Capitolites swarmed around the Square with their cameras and all their other equipment. People were crowding into the Square and into the other nearby streets. The air was filled with the worry and tension that so often accompanied the day of the Reaping in District Twelve. Despite the festive feeling that the decorations were trying desperately to say otherwise. When you were not only the last of the Districts, and also being one of the poorest, it was kind of hard to be enthusiastic about these kinds of things.

She turned in the direction of the boys' section, where she spotted her brothers. The first one she spotted was her older brother, Crest. He was eighteen years old. He was a strong boy with chiseled facial features. Many of the girls in his class often fell for him, claiming that he was like an angel in a man's body. (Which Gardenia honestly thought was kind of creepy.) In the back, in the twelve year old section was her younger brother, Thorn. He looked sweet and innocent, with his big gray eyes and combed hair and the dress clothes that had used to belong to their mother's father when he was twelve. But he was actually one of the most mischievous kids you could ever meet. Always finding a way to get caught up in some scheme. Sometimes bringing in toads and snakes into their home, which laid along the edge of the Seam, where the poorer residents resided in District Twelve. Their house was pretty close to the fence that surrounded District Twelve. Making sure nothing got in and nothing ever got out. Except for when it wasn't on, which was somewhat common. The electricity didn't always work in Twelve with the District being so poor. And sometimes, Gardenia and her family would all go into the forest to gather berries and roots for their meal. If they were lucky, Crest would manage to snare a rabbit or a duck or some other animal. It was a practice they had gotten used to. Ever since their father had left.

Gardenia didn't remember much about her father. All she could make out were bits and pieces. She could recall some images of his face. He was a kind looking man, with eyes that always seemed to be laughing. In many ways, he looked a lot like Crest. Except his hair was a little more curlier, Crest's is straight like our mother's, pretty straight. However, his hair was dark while their mother's was blond, like Gardenia's.

It was kind of strange. Gardenia knew next to nothing about her father's side. All she knew was that he had grown up in the Seam with parents who had very little income. Both his mother and father, her grandparents, worked in the mines. Both of her father's parents died when he was twenty, which was the same year he had met their mother. A couple of years after they were married their parents had Crest. And then her two years later. And then four years later they had Thorn. Then for some reason, when he went to the mines to work, he didn't come back. She couldn't recall much other than the fact that she always cried because she wanted to know where her daddy was. It was her mother and Crest who suffered most. It wasn't like her father to just leave. Nobody in the District had known where he had gone. To this day he was still missing.

Growing up without her father around made Gardenia extremely curious. The only information she had gotten about her dad was from her mother, and that was very little because her father never talked much about his past. She tried asking other miners and other people who lived in the Seam about what her father was like. Not many of them had a lot of information. She did learn that her father wasn't a man whose story was well known. His family preferred not to air any laundry, as the expression went. They kept to themselves. But from what most could tell, they were kindhearted and gentle people.

Though she was sad that she couldn't find out more about her father, Gardenia had taken that curiosity and put it to other uses. Just from her curiosity, she had learned how to make the best of situation. How to stock up on food in case they couldn't get to the woods because of a recent crackdown on the electricity of the fence- which never lasted long. (The longest was about three weeks.) Her mother had grown up as a child in the middle class. She learned a variety of things from various workers who had shoppes set up there in the Square. Her parents even owned a market, which was located in the Square as well. So because of that, Gardenia's mother had learned a variety of skills and was teaching her some of them.

There were still nights when her mother would wake up and have to stand on the other side so she could weep in silence. Losing her parents to cancer and her husband vanishing on her without a trace was something that she had difficulty bearing with. For the most part, she had moved on and come to terms. It still affected her, but she was had learned to live with it. Kind of had to when there were three mouths that had to be fed.

"Gardenia!" a voice said loudly. Dispelling her thoughts, Gardenia turned and saw her friend Maysee standing next to her. The two of them had met when they were in school. But back then they weren't the best of friends. In fact, they were the worst of enemies. All starting because Maysee had beaten Gardenia in a distance-running race in school. And after recess, Gardenia had gotten back at her by putting glue in her hair. They were enemies for three years until suddenly, they realized just how stupid they were acting. And over time, they became the best of friends.

"Huh? What?" Gardenia asked Maysee.

Maysee shrugged. "Nothing important. Looked like you were just spacing out again."

"Oh. Yeah, I tend to do that a lot."

"You're scared aren't you?"

Gardenia nodded. "Yeah." She sighed. "All three of us took tesserae this year. We tried to get it so Thorn wouldn't have to take it. But we couldn't. There wasn't enough food. Or money. So we all had to."

Maysee nodded in understanding. "I know what you mean. My sister and I both took tesserae too." She kicked a stray pebble between her feet, something she always did when she was nervous or scared. "I hope neither my sister or I get Reaped."

"Same. I'm especially scared for Crest."

Chuckling, Maysee said, "Please, you don't have to worry about Crest. He would do a good job in the Games. What with him being all quiet and able to climb trees and such. I bet if he were to be Reaped he'd win. Thorn would probably do good too."

"Yeah, they'd be our first Victor in eighteen years." She just realized her best friend didn't mention anything. "Wait, are you saying if I were to be Reaped I wouldn't win the Games?"

There was an apologetic grimace on her friend's face. "Sorry. I wish I could honestly say I think you would win. But I can't. It's just too unlikely."

"Your confidence is much encouraging."

"Sorry," her friend said again. "Please don't be mad at me."

Gardenia rolled her eyes and sighed in mock exasperation. "Fine," she said. "I'm not mad."

"Good."

Before they could continue the conversation, the Anthem started to play. The eyes of all District Twelve turned towards the stage. When the Anthem finished playing, everyone watched as three people made their way onto the stage. The first person up was the Mayor of District Twelve. He was a short, stout man with graying hair with still some hints of blond in it. Following him came the District's Escort, but it was not the same one that Twelve was used to. Instead of Cypher Mallerdon, an elderly man who always went around in black suit and top hat, always having a corsage in whatever color was fashionable in the Capitol at the time sewn into the hat, Lettie Flaunt was standing before them. An Escort for about five years, she had gained instant fame when Crete Townsend had won the Quarter Quell for District One. She had been the Escort for Districts One and Two for those years until last year, when District One was late for its interviews because she had taken too long getting a manicure or something. Apparently the Capitol was punishing her by giving her the worst District to work with this year. Lettie Flaunt had on a sparkling gold dress and she wore gold eyeliner. She wore a large gold wig which had blue roses woven into it just above her ears. Everyone just stood and gawked at her. Whether she noticed the expressions, she didn't let on. After her came the only Victor of District Twelve.

As the protocol demanded, the Mayor made his way up to the podium and started to retell the history of Panem. It was long and boring, and Gardenia could hear many of the girls wishing that the Mayor would just skip this part. Everybody knew the history, why bother repeating it? Plus, it was the same thing over and over again.

When the Mayor finished reading the history of Panem he then introduced them all to District Twelve's only living Victor. Her name was Emilie Matthers. She had won the twelfth Hunger Games back when she was fourteen years old. The year of her Victory had been set in a mysterious labyrinth below the ground. Yet somehow the Gamemakers had managed to get it so there were plenty of obstacles such as forests, along with plenty of dangers such as half-men, half-bull mutts that roamed around the labyrinth in search of prey. Emilie had turned out to be very good at climbing and was excellent in using knives and was actually decent in using spears. After nearly thirty days of intense action, the Games came down to Emilie and a boy from District Eight. They stood at an altar which had been based in the center of the labyrinth. One of the half-men, half-bull mutts had also found them too. After stabbing her final opponent in the stomach, she knocked him off the altar, where he was torn in half by the mutt that had found them, thus winning the Games. Nobody really liked Emilie. She was a bitter woman known for being harsh. She was also a notorious for one minute coming home with a man, the next minute ending up with another. And she always needed to have a pack of smoking sticks at hand. Even now, she had a smoking stick in her mouth, inhaling the toxic substance like she needed it to survive.

Finally the Mayor finished and he took his seat. Lettie Flaunt then took his place at the podium. There was a grin on her face. "Hello District Twelve!" she exclaimed in a voice that sounded happy, but if you listened closer you could tell that it wasn't. Plus, you could see that the smile was slightly forced. Clearly she would rather be in a different District. "Some of you may not know me, but I am Lettie Flaunt. I am this year's Escort to District Twelve. It's an honor to be here." Yep, she definitely wished she could be somewhere else. She paused for a few moments. Everyone just stared at her. Looking at her as if she were some alien. (Which she was, in a way.) There was a look of defeat on her face. From what Gardenia figured, she must have been hoping for applause or something. Somebody like her who was used to working with Districts who looked at the Games as a chance to gain honor and glory would be disappointed if they were placed in a District like Twelve. "Alrighty then," she said. "I suppose the first order of business will be to choose the Tributes for this year's Hunger Games." She let out a slight squeal. "I just love this time of year!" No response. Frowning slightly, she continued, "We shall choose this year's girl Tribute first."

Lettie walked over to table with the Reaping bowls placed on them. When she reached it, she slipped her hand in the bowl that must have been for the girls. Gardenia's eyes fell on that bowl, and she prayed that she wouldn't be picked. She had taken tesserae. Despite the fact that District Twelve had the lowest population of all the Districts in Panem, there were still a lot slips in there. Many were the tesserae of other kids. That fact did little to reassure Gardenia though.

After digging her hand in the bowl for what seemed like an agonizingly long time, Lettie selected a slip. She walked back over to the podium, almost skipping in excitement, but because she wore golden high-heels she had to keep herself from doing that. Trying to smile brightly but displeasure at her situation still tugging on the corners, she unfolded the slip. Everyone held their breath. Not a word was spoken.

Finally, Lettie Flaunt read the slip excitedly. "Gardenia Ice!"

At first, Gardenia did nothing. She felt a surge of pity and sorrow flow through her. Wondering if she knew the girl or seen her around in the Seam or perhaps in school. It wasn't until she saw Maysee's horrified expression that she realized that something was wrong. Then she noticed that all eyes were turning towards her. And that was when reality hit her.

She had been Reaped.

Hands shaking, Gardenia made her way to the stage. She could see her brothers' mouths drop in horror. Somewhere she could hear her mother gasping. Somebody else was trying to calm her. A horrified scream echoed through the air.

When Gardenia reached the stage, she found herself glancing out. And she had a feeling, right then and there, that these Games were going to be bad for her. Lettie asked for volunteers but nobody came. In that moment Gardenia knew she was doomed.

After all, nobody had won the Hunger Games in District Twelve for eighteen years.

. . .

Gabe Wilcox watched as Gardenia Ice walked up to the stage. He felt pity and sorrow swim through him. He didn't know her personally, they were a couple years apart in school. He had seen her a few times though. Sometimes she would come by the butchery with her mother and trade in some berries and herbs in exchange for some chicken or other kind of meat. Towards the back, he could hear the betters making their exchanges. In some Districts, people bet on who would be selected for the Games. Whether they were from the Seam or a Merchant, how old they were, even how long they would last in the arena. Stuff of that sort.

A round of applause was given when Lettie called for it. The applause wasn't happy or eager though. It was just there because it was required of Twelve. When the applause finished, Lettie then announced that it was time to choose this year's boy Tribute.

"Don't worry Gabe," Michael said. "We should be fine. Neither one of us took tesserae."

"I hope you're right."

Lettie Flaunt fished her hand in the bowl for about ten seconds before choosing a slip. Once she had one, she made her way back to the podium. Everyone watched as the fake-smiling woman in the bizarre outfit unfolded the slip. Then in an excited tone, she read the name of the boy who had been chosen. "Gabe Wilcox!"

The world shattered around Gabe. All the boys stepped aside as he made his way up to the stage, trembling as he did. He wished that his horrified expression would vanish, replaced by a mask that was unreadable. He knew when he stood on that stage though, all Panem would be able to see him. A trembling Tribute scared for his life.

A Peacekeeper escorted him up the steps, making sure he didn't fall off. When he stood up next to Lettie and Gardenia, he could see the whole crowd looking at him. Some looked relieved it wasn't them or anybody they knew who had been chosen this year. Others looked sorry and he could see pity on their faces as well. From where he stood, Gabe could see his brother with the same wide-mouthed expression. He could hear his little sister crying. In the section where the non-eligible stood, he could see his parents. His mother was weeping, and his father was trying to comfort her, but looked like he could use someone to cry on as well. Gabe could also see his older sister standing beside her husband. Her mouth was covered by her hands, and her body was racking with disbelief and agony. Her husband was holding her close, trying desperately to support her.

And in that moment, Gabe felt like he could use some support to. Otherwise he would break down too.

**AN: Well guys, as I said, that was the last Reaping chapter. **

**If you felt that I did your Tributes justice, then be sure to spread the word about this fic. Show it to others. Recommend it to friends both online and in your real life. I write to please myself, but I love getting feedback. **

**So the next chapter should be starting with...*takes a look at notes* District One! Yes, that's right fans. We will be returning to District One to check out Elina Celest, the Career girl who wants to honor her family by winning the Games. And Jett Tyson, the arrogant thirteen year old Career boy who thinks that he has what he takes to make it in the Arena. **

**And...who wants info on the ultimate project I am working on with twenty-four other authors? I'm guessing you do. Well, we just recently started an account which the story will be posted on. And the Reaping/Goodbye/Train ride chapters will be finished soon. I expect we will be publishing some chapters in the next few days. The account the collaboration fic will be found on is called 24 and 24. The story itself will be called _Blood Dreams_. The authors who will be working on this are from many different backgrounds, share different views, write all sorts of different fics. But we all have one thing in common. A powerful love for Collins' work. This is the thing that unites us, the love for the series, and the desire to create one of the most epic fics in the Hunger Games archive. **

**This is going to be epic. And I encourage you to check it out. I'm looking forward to see you read it. :)**


	19. Chapter 18: D1 Goodbyes and Train Rides

**AN: Hello everyone. So let's see. This chapter starts the second part of this fic. I have decided to break this fic up into parts. Part One was with us meeting our Hunger Games host Monica Fellertan, the Escorts, the Stylists and Prep Teams, and finally al ofl the Reapings introducing our Tributes. For that reason, Part One is called Introductions. This second part is going to be called Goodbyes and Train Rides. **

**Okay. So as I said last time, we will be starting with District One. Based on who we left off with during the Reaping, we will start with the other Tribute. Meaning, for example, because we left off with Elina's point of view in the District One chapter, we'll be starting with Jett Tyson.**

**Now then, I'll be quiet, and you can read. :) **

Chapter Eighteen

District One Goodbyes and Train Rides

Once Jett had shaken hands with Elina Celest, the Anthem had begun to play the Reapings out. Once the it did, the Peacekeepers who were standing near the stage took him and Elina into custody. No, not meaning they were arrested. But they were taken into the Justice Building. In the next few minutes, Jett, along with every single other Tribute who had been Reaped, would have a chance to say goodbye to loved ones. For some, these would be the last goodbyes.

_Not for me though, _Jett thought to himself as the Peacekeepers led him down a hallway. _Victory is mine this year_._ I am certain of it_._ Nothing is going to take me down_.

He was led down a long hallway with doors on either side, no doubt leading into various rooms. At the end of the hall the Peacekeepers opened a door to one of the rooms. Willingly he entered. Before the Peacekeepers shut the door, he said to one, "I'm going to win this year. You watch."

The Peacekeeper smirked. "Yeah kid," he said. He looked Jett up and down. A doubting grin appeared on his face, which made Jett flush with anger. But before he could say anything, the Peacekeeper said, "I've heard that one before." Then he shut the door behind him, leaving Jett alone to be by himself. There was the click of a lock on the other side, which caused Jett to raise his eyebrows. Did Tributes actually try to escape at some point during the thirty years there had been Hunger Games? Strange. Must have been wimps or something.

The room itself was well furnished. The entire floor was covered in rug, which was a light red hue. The chair and the couch that sat in the room were a dark shade of blue. There were no windows, so the room was kind of dark. Slightly stuffy too. There were two velvet chairs, neither of them entirely special in appearance. Most families in District One were rich enough to afford furniture made of velvet. Jett took a seat and tried to wait patiently for his loved ones to come and say their goodbyes. It was not an easy task though. He wanted to be out of One and onward to the Captiol as soon as possible. So he could not only win the Games, but finally be able to see Uncle Crete and start learning everything there was to learn from him.

It took no more than five minutes before the lock on the door became undone. The door opened. Jett saw his parents enter the room. The Peacekeeper, the one that Jett had bragged to, stood on the opposite side of the threshold of the room and told them that they had five minutes before the next visitors came. Then he closed the door and locked again.

Jett stood up from his chair. His parents walked over to him. There was a proud look on his mother's face. She was beaming from ear to ear, and her movements were confident. He smiled back at her. When he glanced at his father though, he didn't see the same expression on his face. Instead of pride, joy, and confidence, there was clear and utter disbelief. In fact, his expression hadn't changed much since Jett had last seen it when he standing on the stage.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt a sudden rap on the back of his head. It disoriented him for a few seconds, sending his head forward about half an inch. Jerking his head back up, Jett saw his father's hand, which must have rose from his side during the five seconds that they just arrived, pull back away from the back of his head. His own hand going to the back of his head, Jett looked at his father in confusion. "Did you just smack me?"

"Jasper!" his mother exclaimed in disbelief as well. "Why did you slap him upside the head?"

"Because he volunteered!" his father exclaimed.

"I told you I was going to volunteer this year!" Jett exclaimed.

His father glared furiously at him. He pointed his finger at him. "And I told you this morning that you were not going to volunteer this year. You're not ready yet!"

Jett felt snubbed. "You really don't have any faith in me do you?"

"You've only been training for one damn year!" his father exclaimed.

Their mother weaved her way between the two of them in an attempt to break up the fight. "Okay, that will be enough," she said sternly. "These are the last few minutes before Jett has to be taken to the Captiol, Jasper!"

"It's not too late. We can probably see if another kid wants to take his place. Glamor, can't you see that he isn't ready-"

"He is going, and you will accept it," Jett's mother said determinedly. This threw Jett's father off. It threw Jett off too. Sure, he had seen his mother mad. And he had seen it where she would explode and scream and yell. But she never really got mad at Dad, not like this. Her eyes were a burning silver color, and her hands were balled into fists at her sides. She unclenched her fists for a few seconds though. She took a few steps back, her high-heeled brushing across the the rug as she did, until she stood shoulder to shoulder with Jett. Then she placed a hand on her son's shoulder. He felt her hand touch, and the touch was supportive. Relief swept through him. His mother may not have had much say in what kinds of classes he took during Career training, but she was going to show she was just as equal in this situation as his father was. "Jasper," she said to his father in a calmer tone. "Jett wants to take part in the Games. He wants to be just like his Uncle. He has been dreaming of this moment since he could remember. Are you really going to take that away from him?"

Jett's father took on a look of disbelief. His mouth dropped, his eyebrows rose, and he threw his arms in the air in frustration. "I don't want to take that away from him!" he exclaimed, his arms falling to his sides. "I would never dream of taking that away from my son. I just wish he would wait until he was ready. Maybe when he's around sixteen I would let him volunteer. Now is just not the right time."

"But Dad, I can do this," Jett insisted, his hands balling up into fists and his foot giving a firm stamp. Perhaps it made him look like a spoiled little kid but he didn't care. Right now he was willing to do anything to get through to his father. "I can do this Dad! I know I'm ready! I know I've only been training for one year, but I have what it takes. I'm better prepared than most kids. And I can just ride along with the rest of the Careers until the time is right for me to strike." His father still looked unconvinced. "Please Dad, let me do this. Please. I want to bring honor to our family. I want to prove I can be like Uncle Crete."

His father still looked like he wanted to say something, but the door opened. "Time is up," the Peacekeeper announced.

There was a look of regret in Jett's father's eyes. He looked down at the carpet and hung his head in despair. His hands balled into fists at his sides, and then unclenched. Quickly, he threw his arms around Jett. Squeezing him tightly into his chest, his large fingers clinging tightly onto Jett's shaggy, straight dark hair. Almost as if he were afraid that if he let go, his son would be gone from his grasp forever."You better come back to me son," he whispered. "You had better come back. I want to kick your ass for disobeying me."

Jett smiled, not at the fact that he was going to get his rear kicked by his father when he got back from the Capitol (the possibility of "if" wasn't being considered in his head), but because of the fact that his father was going to let him go. Whether it was because there was no time left now and it was too late, or perhaps he was finally convinced he was ready for this, Jett didn't know. What he did know was that for his Dad now, he was going to do whatever it took to win the Games. "I will Dad," he said, "I promise."

The Peacekeeper started to walk into the room, but Jett's father quickly let go. Willingly, he allowed himself to be led out of the room along with Jett's mother. His mother managed to turn her head around and call to him, "Good luck son! May the odds be in your-"

The sound of the door slamming shut cut her voice off, but Jett knew what it was she was saying.

_May the odds be in your favor_.

A few more minutes passed before the door opened once again. The two people who entered were his friends, Crafter and Flash. The two of them both had a similar expression on their faces: utter disbelief. When the door closed and locked, Jett stood before his friends. He made no movements. Just stood there, looking at his friends, staring at them.

It was Flash, the one who was never afraid to voice his thoughts, who exclaimed in disbelief. "I can't believe you just volunteered!"

"Dude, you're going to die!" Crafter exclaimed. "You're going to be sent in the arena and you'll be lucky if you make it past the Bloodbath!"

Seriously? Why couldn't everyone see that he was ready for this? He had trained for a whole year and was the best in his class. He could do things that some people couldn't. He was pretty good at knife throwing and using a spear, and a decent shot when it came to a bow. On top of that, he knew how to build a fire with almost any material! How many Careers knew how to do that? How many? Most of them knew nothing except how to chop people into a thousand pieces with a sword. When it came to things such as survival, they were basically screwed because they had no knowledge in those areas. Honestly. Jett thought he was in a very excellent position to win.

He could do this. He knew he could. Not only could, but _would_.

Jett frowned sharply. "It's nice to know that my friends have so much faith in me."

"Come on man, wake up and smell the coffee!" Crafter exclaimed. "Don't you realize that compared to some, you are at a disadvantage?"

"Some of the people in there have been training their whole lives!" exclaimed Flash.

"Yeah, and most of them have had no experience in training at all. The only ones who really had any training besides One are the Tributes from Two and Four! Can't you see? All I have to do is ride along with the rest of them and then when the moment comes, I'll kill them all."

"How do you plan on doing that?" Flash asked.

Jett shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I can set the forest on fire or something."

"What if there is no forest?"

"I'll figure something out."

Both of his friends looked at each other with disbelief. They shook their heads in unison. Finally, Crafter said, "You know Jett, there's something you got to know."

"What's that?"

"Are you sure we should tell him?" Flash asked.

Jett glared. "You said that there was something I needed to know, so you might as well come out with it. Come on, I want to hear it." Deep down though, he had a feeling he didn't want to.

Crafter frowned. "You need to know that you are a complete idiot! You allowed your mother to twist your common sense and now you're going to pay for that! You're going to die, and it's likely going to be long and painful. Especially because nearly everyone can barely stand you! Except for Flash and I, nobody in our class likes you! Nobody in the Academy likes you! Why? 'Cause you brag all the time about how you have an Uncle who was a past Victor and how he had won the Quarter Quell. You are constantly showing off, and you're spoiled as I don't know what!"

Anger started to swell up inside Jett. "That's a lie!" he shouted. "That's a complete and utter lie. There are a lot of people who like me. Oh, and I suppose you two think that you're popular too? Boy, you got another thing coming. It's only because of me you two are even popular in our whole class." A sudden thought occurred to him. "Wait a second! I think I see what's going. You're jealous of me!"

"Jealous?" both of his friends exclaimed in shock.

"Yeah, that's what I think.

"Jealous, of you?" Crafter asked in disbelief. "Jealous of the fact that you get to go to some arena to be killed off by the competition because we are in no way prepared for this? Please."

"You are though!" Jett spat. "You're jealous! Because I had the courage to do the one thing neither of you did. Because I have a relative who won not only a past Hunger Games, but also a very important Games. Not only that, you two are mad at me because I kicked both of your butts in that two-on-one challenge that the Trainers at the Academy put us in. The challenge that gave me the highest grade out of all of us."

Both of his friends shook their heads. "You know what," Flash said, "let's get out of here. If he wants to die a painful and bloody death, let him. It's clear he's going to do whatever he wants." With that, the two boys started to make their way towards the door.

"Yeah that's right!" Jett shouted. "Go! Go on ahead! Be like that! Go ahead and continue to be jealous. I don't care! I don't need you! I don't need anyone! I'll have plenty of friends after I win the Games!"

The door slammed shut and once again the lock clicked. His blood still boiling, Jett made his way over to one of the chairs and took a seat. Groaning, he rested his forehead on his wrists, his elbow supported by his knee. "I'll show them," he growled. "I'll show each and every one of them I can do this. I'm Jett Tsyon! Nephew of Crete Townsend! Nobody will stop me from winning the Games! This is my destiny!"

But in the back of his head, he could hear a faint, tiny voice whispering to him, "_And yet you just lost two of your best friends in the process_. _Not exactly a something that comes with winning, isn't it_?"

He shook the voice from his head. There was no way he was going to let Crafter's and Flash's words get to him. Soon enough, he would prove he was ready for this. And then they would all be sorry.

Nearly ten minutes passed, and he was starting to think he wasn't going to get any more visitors. It was to his surprise when he saw the door open and his Pre-Mentor stepped into the room. His Pre-Mentor was a short man who was almost completely bald except for a few tufts of silver hair poking out from the sides of his head. He had a thin gray mustache, and a long, thin, gray beard that rolled down to the middle of his chest in a silver waterfall. His eyes were slanted downwards, and the expression on his face showed that he had seen many things that others hadn't. Quickly, Jett stood up. When you had a meeting with Glass Miyamoto, sitting down wasn't an option, unless you wanted to be wrapped upside the head with the cane that he used to walk with.

Jett stood there, watching as his Pre-Mentor stared at him. Even though they had only known each other for a year, they had gotten to know each other pretty well. The expression on Glass Miyamoto's face was unreadable, but Jett had a feeling he knew what his thoughts were. They were definitely along the lines of everyone else. _You stupid idiot, why didn't you do as you were told and wait for a years. You would have been ready then. _

After the last visit, Jett was not in the mood to hear any more criticism from anybody. "Look, Pre-Mentor Miyamoto," he said, "everyone who has come to visit me has already given me the whole speech about how I should have waited. I really don't feel like hearing more of it."

"I know," was the reply.

"So unless you have anything new to say, just go."

Glass shrugged. "Guess it's a good thing I have something new to say."

This caught Jett by surprise. "What is it?"

"Apparently with your little stunt, you have just recently changed the way District One will be handling the volunteers."

Jett's eyes widened. "I did?"

His Pre-Mentor nodded. "Apparently, they will now be doing tryouts. Rather than a first come, first serve basis, they will have all kids who wish to volunteer tryout the night before the actual Reaping. From there, they decide four volunteers. Two for each gender, in case the first choice of volunteers was reaped and they had to go with a second." A smile spread across Glass's face. "Congratulations, you just made District One history.

"Cool," Jett said, his mood brightening.

"That doesn't change the fact that you're an idiot."

That knocked his happiness down a few pegs. But Jett shrugged it off. He was used to Glass always finding fault in something he did. His father had once told him that it was the only way a person grew. Figuring that philosophy was true, Jett knew it was best not to challenge it. "So did you come here for anything else besides the fact that you're disappointed with me?"

That was when his Pre-Mentor unveiled yet another surprise. From the pocket of his pants, Glass pulled out an ornament of some sort. When he held it out in the palm of his hand, Jett saw it was not an ornament, but a pin. At first when he looked at it and seen the color, he thought it was just metal that had been painted gold. Closer inspection showed otherwise though. The design of the pin was that of a ring which surrounded a crackling flame. The tips of the fire were what connected it to the ring.

"I brought this for you as a token," Glass said. "It has belonged to my family for generations. It's suppose to bring luck to anyone who wears it. Considering your position, you'll need every ounce of it."

Jett's eyes widened further. Every year, each child taking part in the Games was allowed to take one possession that reminded them of home while in the arena. Slowly, in complete shock, Jett reached out to take the pendant from his Pre-Mentor. "Thanks, but I don't need luck. I have destiny."

Before he could reach out and accept the pin though, his Pre-Mentor closed his hand around it. There was an expression on his face that Jett knew all too well. Now, when he was about to be taken to the Capitol to serve as a Tribute for the Hunger Games, he was going to be given a lesson. Knowing that his Pre-Mentor was never one to waste time or words, he decided to listen. No doubt these words could be life or death for him. "Remember that the smallest of flames can be the cause of some of the most roaring fires."

He then held the pin out once more. This time when Jett reached out, he didn't pull away. Taking the pin in his hands, Jett looked at it. He stared at the flame that had been carved out of gold. Crackling and alive. Burning with desire.

Just like him.

He clipped the pin to his chest, and Jett looked up to his Pre-Mentor. "Thank you," he said gratefully.

Glass nodded only once. Showing that he was acknowledging the thank you. At that moment, the door opened, and the Peacekeeper announced, "It's time for the kid to make his way to the train."

Nodding at the Peacekeeper in acknowledgment, Glass Miyamoto turned to Jett. "Go and bring District One a victory, Jett. I want my pin back. And I want to wrap you upside the head with my cane for disobeying me."

Grinning, Jett said, "You're not the first one who has said that." Glass's eyes lit up in what Jett thought was laughter. However, before he could tell for certain, Glass turned around to leave.

Just as he was about to pass through the doorway though, he turned around. And said one final sentence that would roll around in the back of Jett's head forever. "One other thing. Sometimes, as it sometimes takes only a small spark to start a fire, it sometimes only takes a little amount of fuel before a fire is dangerous." Then with that, his Pre-Mentor left the room.

Instead of closing the door though, the Peackeeper came in, a serious expression on his face. "Come along, kid," he said. "Goodbyes are over. It's off to the Capitol for you."

Determination suddenly swept through Jett as he was led out of the room by a Peacekeeper. Another joined them in escorting him out of the Justice Building. They stood on either side of him, making certain that if he ever tried to escape he couldn't get away. But Jett wasn't going to try. This was the thing he had always wanted. He had been working for this goal for over a year. There was no way he was backing out now.

Just as they reached the doors of the Justice Building, they were joined by two more Peackeepers, one being a man and the other a woman. Both of whom were escorting Elina Celest. When he looked at her, Jett couldn't help but wonder. Her expression was always unreadable. However, there was something about her. He may not have been sharpest tool in the shed, but you would have to be an utter idiot not to feel the forbidding air about her. As if she were some sort of monster or something. And from the gleam in her eyes that appeared as soon as she saw him, Jett felt a chill run down his spine. They weren't even out of One yet and she was looking at him as if he were her prey.

Before Jett could dwell on this disturbing thought though, the doors opened, and soon he and Elina were being led out of the Justice Building, and into a street that had people gathered on both sides of it. Cheers echoed through the air. Cameras flashed. Past this crowd was the train station where no doubt a Capitol train would be waiting for them. Waiting to take them to the Capitol.

And not just the Capitol, but his destiny.

. . .

Elina Celest stepped out of the Justice Building alongside Jett Tyson. The four Peacekeepers attending them formed a barrier between the two Tributes and the crowd that was made up of both District One citizens and Capitolites. It was easy to tell who the Capitolites were, with their bizarre wigs and dyed skin and their crazy clothes. They stuck out like oddly colored birds in a flock of plain-looking ones. Especially the ones who were trying to stretch themselves as far as they could with microphones in hand so they could get an interview with her.

Elina only ignored their pleas for one. They could ask, plea and beg, but she wasn't submitting herself and making herself look like some Tribute who wasn't happy unless she was in the spotlight. She was here for one reason and one reason only, to make people pay for the death of her brother and family. She refused to let these bizarre-looking freaks distract her from that.

The train station wasn't that far away, only a five minute walk. District One was one of the smallest Districts in terms of land area. Really, it was a city. Most of the buildings that weren't made of houses were facilities that focused on making the luxury items. Yet it took nearly twice as much time to get there because Jett had stopped and insisted in giving one Capitol woman with red dyed skin and super long fake bronze eyelashes an interview. The only thing Elina could hear from the interview was the Capitolite asking him did he really think it would be able to win, especially with him being so young?

"It takes only a small spark to cause a huge fire!" he had said with a grin on his face.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance. There was no way that kid could have come up with that himself. Considering the fact he was stupid enough to do this at his age to begin with, she figured he wasn't even that intelligent. Somebody probably fed it to him or something. Probably his parents or his Pre-Mentor or something.

_Patience_, a voice whispered in the back of her head. _The kid will die soon enough_. _When he does you won't ever have to worry about him again_.

Patience. Not the strongest of her virtues, but she could do it. Maybe.

Finally, after practically having to pull Jett along because so many people wanted to interview him (for they had given up on trying to get one with her), they reached the train. To Elina's annoyance though, they had to stand in the doorway and wait for the cameras to gobble up their images first. She managed to keep the annoyance out of her expression though. If she wanted her strategy to work, keeping emotionless was the key.

It was after a painstakingly long minute that Elina and Jett were allowed to board one of the train's cars, where Capitol attendants immediately started to lead them through the corridors. Just as the doors of the car closed, the train took off, the floor suddenly moving beneath them nearly caused Elina to lose her balance, but she managed to catch herself by pushing her shoulder against a wall. One of the attendants tried to help her, but she merely shoved her hands away. "I'm fine," she said.

Jett, who had lost his balance for a few seconds as well, stood up. "Wow, this isn't like the normal train that usually takes the luxury items out of One," he said.

Elina rolled her eyes. _No duh_! "That's because this is a Capitol train you idiot," she spat. "They go like two hundred miles an hour." She was glad that from District One it only took four hours to reach the Capitol. Being the second closest District to it, District One was usually one of the first to get there.

"Two hundred fifty miles," corrected the same Captiol attendant who had previously tried to help her when she had lost her balance.

"Whatever."

Elina wouldn't admit it out loud, but she was impressed with the Tribute train. It was even more fancier than the room that she had been placed in when she said her goodbyes. She and Jett were each given their own chambers that had a private bathroom, dressing room, and bedroom. Looking at it, Elina saw it as basically what District One had, except what One had was a little less fancy. The moment the Capitol attendant showed her inside, she closed the door so she could be alone for a few moments. She hated having eyes on her all the time. Seriously. Did people have no lives?

She walked over to the bed and sat down on it. She could feel the mattress sink with her weight, and she immediately felt her body, which had tensed slightly since she had left the Justice Building, begin to unwind. Before she knew she was lying full length on the bed with her arms outstretched on either side of her, her head resting on a soft violet pillow. As the train rolled down the tracks, getting closer and closer to the Capitol, Elina felt her heart start to beat with excitement. Soon, very soon, she would be in the Captiol. Once they got done with showing her off and having Panem get to know her, she would be entered in the Arena. Soon, she would be able to bring honor to her family and make them proud of her.

Soon, the connection between her and her family would be reconnected.

The thought of her family suddenly brought her to thinking about Katelin. The last minutes she had with her best friend before she was led out of the room by the Peacekeepers started to flood her, threatening to overwhelm her. She managed to keep herself calm and relaxed. And just allowing the memories to come.

Moments after the Reaping had finished, she had been led to a room with velvet carpets and chairs. Just a few minutes after the doors had closed and locked, they opened. Katelin and her mother and father soon entered. The moments that followed were dreadful for Elina, because she had to listen as her adopted family wished her well and hope that she would come back, while at the same time, not break down into sobs in front of her because they knew she wouldn't like it. It came to a point where Katelin's parents had to give Elina a hug and then tell her goodbye and that though they wished it was for a different circumstance, they were glad she got to be a part of their family. Then they left her and Katelin alone in the room.

Elina had looked at Katelin, allowing herself a moment to just frown sadly. "You know Katelin, you have good parents." She paused a few moments. It was time that she revealed something to her friend. "In fact, I'm very jealous."

Katelin's eyes widened. "You're jealous?"

Elina nodded. "Yeah. Not just because yours are alive and mine aren't. Your parents are just so good. They have been very kind and good to me, especially for allowing me to live with you. They'd never be able to compare to my actual ones, but I'm glad I got to consider them as part of my family." She had stopped speaking for a few moments to contemplate the next words she would say. When she had found them she had said, "And I am glad I got to consider you more than a friend, but practically my sister."

Katelin's face, which was still struggling not to show that she was about to break down and cry, brightened slightly. "Practically sisters?" she asked in disbelief, a smile appearing on her face.

Unexpectedly, Elina had found herself smiling too. "Fine, scratch that. We _are _sisters." It was true. Her bond with Katelin had come to be as close siblings, adopted or not, could get. In fact, she was basically on the same level as her brother had been.

The smile on Katelin's face had grown. Her tears were collecting in her eyes, so it was no surprise to Elina when those tears started to well over and run down her friend's face. She had watched as Katelin sniffled, and wiped a hand under her nose. "Promise me you will come back."

"I will, I promise."

The two of them were silent for a few moments. During that time though, Katelin's expression had taken on a debating look. Elina knew instantly she was arguing with herself over something. The question was what.

Finally Katelin had said, "Elina, will you promise one more thing?"

From the way Katelin said it, Elina knew she wasn't going to like it. "Depends on what it is," Elina had responded cautiously. Best to find out what it was she wanted to ask first.

A sigh had escaped Katelin. "I know you promised that you would go to the Games. I know you promised you would win them for your family. I know there's nothing that I can do to change your mind. Please. I just ask one thing. Don't lose yourself. Don't allow yourself to get caught up in revenge. Please? Revenge isn't healthy. It only destroys. Turns us into something that we aren't. Please, don't let it consume you."

Elina had wanted to swear. Out of all the things that Katelin had to ask, she had to ask the one thing that she couldn't do? Why? It had made her want to scream obscenities. But she couldn't. Not when these were the last moments with her best friend and the closest thing she had to a sibling since her brother had died. She couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she had just said, "I'll try."

"But do you promise?"

Didn't Katelin understand that she was making this more difficult than it had to be? Sighing, Elina had responded, "I'm afraid I can't promise that Katelin." That was when she felt the truth start to surge from her. "Because I'm afraid it may be already working in me. It's what's been fueling me during my Career training at the Academy for nearly a year. Not just my training there, but with the Pre-Mentor I hired using the money I inherited after my parents' death." She could feel the guilt start to swim in her, but she managed to keep it back. She was proud of it. She was proud she had become a Career. Proud of using some of the money her parents had left her after their deaths to hire one of the best Pre-Mentors in District One. It had been something she had been working on with her parents anyway. Why stop something when you were way past the starting point?

Sadness swept across Katelin's face. More tears had started to well from her eyes, but she had quickly brushed them away. Good thing too. Elina wasn't one for crying, but she could swear she could feel her tears starting to build up and they just might break the mental dam she was trying to secure them with. "I suppose that's the best answer you can give?" Katelin had asked her.

"I'm afraid so."

Katelin nodded. The realization that Katelin's time might almost be up came to Elina. To her regret she wouldn't be able to return the dress to her. Not unless she wanted to walk around in only her undergarments. She would be able to return the hairband though. She ran her hands through her hair and took it out. She had then held it out to Katelin, but she wouldn't take it. She was too sad to. So Elina took her friend's hands in hers and placed it gently but firmly in them. "You'll probably want that back."

Next thing Elina knew, Katelin was taking off her corsage and placing it on her wrist. The white rose was quite a contrast to the red dress and lipstick she was wearing. Her clothes represented the justice she wanted. The blood she demanded in exchange for the lives of the family she had lost. But this white flower corsage was completely representing a different thing. It was innocence. It was purity. It was mercy. The very things that Elina wasn't.

"To remember me by," Katelin had said. And at that moment, the Peacekeeper opened the door to call her out. Quickly, she added, "And to remember yourself by." Then she had thrown her arms around Elina again, embracing her tightly. Then she pulled away and said, "May the odds be with you."

Before Elina could say anything in response, Katelin left. Though it was soft, Elina could hear the sniffles, and the sob that escaped her throat as she made her way down the hall.

Pulling herself from her memories, Elina took a glance at her right wrist, the wrist that Elina had placed the white flower corsage on. In the light that came through the windows of her chamber, it seemed to glow magnificently.

A trace of a smile appeared on Elina's lips as she looked at the token that Katelin had given her. It made her feel slightly guilty. She didn't know why exactly, but it did. The one friend she had in the world, and she didn't even deserve her.

But who would say no to having a friend like her?

Her train of thought snapped when there was a knock on her door. The annoying voice of Remus Harrison on the other side said, "Elina, come on out sweetie! We need to introduce you to your Mentors and have lunch."

Sighing, Elina got up from the bed. At the last moment, she decided she would change her dress. She really didn't want to wander around in her Reaping clothes. It just kept reminding her about the white rose corsage around her wrist, and how she couldn't compare to what it was representing. Walking over to the dresser on the other side of the room, she chose a soft orange dress. Then she checked herself in front of the mirror that stood in the corner. The orange was doing a good job at diluting her thoughts away from where she wished not to dwell. Nodding in satisfaction, she then left the room.

Remus was standing there, his tiger orange face had a beaming smile on it. "Come along with me sweetie," he said. She followed, but decided not to keep in pace with him. She wanted as little to do with the Capitolite as possible. Whether Remus had noticed it or not, she didn't know. Nevertheless, it didn't phase him. He was talking a million miles a minute about how fantastic the Hunger Games were surely going to be and how it was bound to be huge because of it being the thirtieth anniversary.

Finally she couldn't take his jabber anymore and she finally exclaimed, "Do you not know how to shut up?"

"Dang girl," Remus said, looking at her. "You don't need to get all ugly before you enter the arena."

"Please, the hell of listening to you talk is more hell than what the arena will be like." The comment worked as she had hoped. She smiled at Remus's disbelief. He didn't say anything though. Just kept walking, facing forward. What pleased her even more was after that whenever he addressed her he always tried not to make eye contact.

After following him through a narrowing corridor, Elina found herself in a compartment that must have been designated for the sole purpose of providing food. It wasn't the quantity that surprised her so much. District One was one of the most wealthiest Districts in all of Panem. It was evident in the food they ate and how strong and attractive many of the kids were. (Though supposedly District Two was more well known for its strength and District Four was number one when it came to attractiveness.) No, it was the quality that mostly got her. Her eyes glazed over the amount of dishes that sat on a little wheeled cart. A Capitol attendant was busy placing the food on plates and setting them on a table that was screwed to the floor, while another went around pouring drinks. Besides her and Remus, the only other person in the room was Jett.

The sight of him made Elina want to punch the kid. Ever since he had volunteered, she could not find a single ounce of love for him. It was probably because of his stupidity. No doubt some of the Capitolites were thinking that he was very brave for volunteering at a young age. However, all Elina could see was foolishness. Did Jett honestly think he would last long in the arena? Please, he would be lucky if he made it past the Bloodbath.

And as he talked and talked and talked with Remus, annoying the heck out of her, Elina found herself hoping it would be her that would kill him. It was kind of tempting to use the fork she was using to eat her pork and mixed vegetables with as a weapon to stab him. Right in the forehead would be a good spot...

However, she had to push aside such thoughts when the three of them were graced by the presences of their Mentors. This year, it must have been decided that Sparkle Madrine would be the Mentor for the District One girl tribute while the Mentor for the Boy Tribute would be Lapis Onar. She couldn't remember much about how Lapis had won his Games. While she was sure they might have shown his in a recap once, she had pretty much forgotten most of it (since he was the victor of the eighteenth, a time that was before she was born). All she could remember was it had something to do with his skills in a spear. Now, Lapis was mostly a symbol of Capitol style, what with his lapis luzuli dyed skin. However, she knew better than to be fooled by his desire of Capitol fashion. There was probably more to him than met the eye. Unlike the brat that he ended up being stuck with having to mentor. What was funny was Lapis didn't look too happy about being the Mentor for Jett, and Jett didn't look too thrilled either.

If she wasn't focusing on keeping her face an indifferent mask, Elina would have smirked.

However, Sparkle Madrine was a different story. Her Games were pretty popular for years. (At least until Crete "Apollo" Townsend won the Quarter Quell.) The way she brutally murdered six kids in her Games using her combination of sword fighting prowess and stealth skills, and especially during the moment in her Games when it came down to her and her District Partner. Both of them had been excellent in swordsmanship, but it was Sparkle who came out on top after a struggle that lasted for over forty minutes when she finally severed his leg and then decapitated him. Sparkle was the full embodiment of just how cruel and fierce District One could be. With her silky dark hair falling down her shoulders, and the air of power that emanated from her thin but strong body, you could tell she was a force to be reckoned with. Elina liked her at once.

Sparkle Madrine smiled when she saw Elina. "So you're our Girl Tribute this year." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Her eyes looked over Elina's body critically. For a moment Elina felt uncertain. What was she supposed to do? Anything? Or nothing at all?

She decided to just say, "I'm the best that District One's got."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

Sparkle laughed. "I actually think you might be right." Her tone was serious as she said that, and Elina felt relief inwardly sweep through her.

It was Jett who spoke up next. "No she's not!" he exclaimed. "I'm the best Tribute that One has!"

"Don't fool yourself kid," Lapis said as he walked over to the bar that stood on the opposite side of the car. He chose a glass bottle filled with blue liquid that Elina automatically assumed must have been an alcoholic beverage of some sort. Lapis uncapped the bottle and poured some into his glass decanter. After he had taken a sip, he continued. "Out of all the Careers you're the weak link."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"Am not!" insisted Jett.

"Are too," Lapis said, grinning. This time he wasn't just pointing out the fact. The grin on his face was devilish. Clearly he was having fun torturing the kid. At first Elina wasn't sure whether she would like Lapis or not, but she decided to go ahead. He was doing something that she couldn't do, torture Jett. He and her would get along fine, especially because he was unconsciously helping her with her strategy. Though she kind of wished he was more like the kind of person that said: "Let's kill the little moron."

Remus Harrison cleared his throat to break up the argument that was erupting. He then wiped his lips with a napkin. "Now then," he said. "Why don't we watch the Reaping recaps?"

Everyone, including Lapis and Sparkle, went into a different compartment where a huge, wide television screen sat. Remus turned the TV on and quickly flipped to the channel where the District Recaps were taking place. While they watched the Recaps, Elina made sure to keep track of those who would more than likely be her greatest competition. Her eyes widened when she saw the girl from District Two brutally murder a girl who had tried to volunteer for her. Looking at her, Elina could tell she wasn't a Career. At least, not one that had been trained in the Academy. But she was still vicious. She had to respect her. And she had a feeling she would actually like her too, once they met anyway. The boy from Two was just as impressive. Sporting both good looks and no doubt some very amazing fighting skills, he was a definite opponent she would have to keep her eye on, even though they would more than likely be in an alliance together. The Tributes from Three weren't all that impressive looking. While surprisingly the boy from Four was younger than Jett, the girl from Four definitely had good looks going for her. She no doubt had been training. Though they were never eager to volunteer, Four was known for having Careers. The boy from Five looked smart and devious. The boy from Six looked nearly just as impressive as the boy from Two. And the fact that his parents were both Victors was also playing well in his hands. Nothing special that Elina could see about the Tributes from Seven and Eight, though she had a feeling that the girl from Seven would be handful somehow. While it was surprising that boy in Nine volunteered to take the place of a kid who must have been his brother, he wasn't impressive in any other aspect. The ones for Nine weren't impressive. Neither were the ones from Ten. The girl from Eleven looked like she was pretty bright for someone her age though she had nothing else going for her. Though the boy from Eleven was impressive, he lost that aspect when he threw up all over the Escort of that District. And neither of the tributes from Twelve impressive either.

This was going to be way too easy.

"Looks like we may have Tributes to make up for your lack of training Jett," she said snidely.

The only response she got from him was a simple and stupid one. "Shut up."

**AN: The first chapter for Blood Dreams is up! Remember, it's on the account known as 24 and 24. If you still can't find it, message me and I'll send you a link via PM. :)**


	20. Chapter 19: D2 Goodbyes and Train Rides

**AN: I'm not going to be able to update for a while. I'm going to be going away for five days to take part in a program that teaches leadership skills. And I may not get internet. So don't be concerned if I don't update for a while. **

**_Blood Dreams_ now has three chapters. If you haven't checked the story out, I suggest you do. I am the author of District Two's male Tribute. Come on guys, I need more fans. :) **

**Ariel (a. k. a. Ariyah) is going to be working on some covers for this story. She already has one done, you can view it on my livejournal community, which you can check out by going on my profile and finding the link. When she has all her ideas in, I'm going to post them in a poll, where you can vote for the cover. The one with the most votes will win. Ariel is also working on character bio pictures. I plan on posting these pictures on my livejournal and my blog. Don't worry those of you who have sent in Tributes, I'll be sure to get your approval before I post any final products.**

**And yes I know there are two Michaels and two Jasons. You'll have to get used to that. There will be some characters who share similar names. In order to make a fic with this large a cast realistic, there will have to be people with same names. **

**Now then I'll shut up, and you can read. :) **

Chapter Nineteen

D2 Train Rides and Goodbyes

"_I just killed somebody. _

_I just killed a girl who had done me no wrong. She was trying to take my place as the female Tribute spot for this year's Hunger Games. I didn't even give her a chance to fight. Just pounced on her and pulled her head back, and used my knife to slice her throat. _

_And Vincent and Brooke saw it._"

As the Mayor had finished reading the Treaty of Treason and the Anthem played the Reaping out. Avery Nicholet and Mason Ryker were led down the steps and into the Justice Building so they could say their goodbyes to loved ones. When she was walking down the stage, she could see people glaring at her. Their glares were causing a nausea to form in her stomach. She wanted to throw up, but forced the feeling down. Now was not the time to get sick. It was important she remained strong in her resolve. Not only just for her brother, sister, and Michael, but for herself. If she let sickness get the best of her, every time she killed someone, how was she ever going to win the Games? That was how it worked. Kids went to the Capitol, got showcased and displayed for all the Capitolites to see, then were sent into an arena to kill one another while being filmed the whole time to please an audience. For everyone she loved, she would have to accept it. Even if she did hate it.

Yet that voice nagging in the back of her head wouldn't leave her alone.

_You didn't even know her name._

"_Fine by me_," she thought. "_It helps I don't know her name. Her death won't distract me_."

_Do you believe that_?

That was the problem, she didn't. No matter how many times she told herself, she couldn't believe that the girl she killed would mean nothing to her. That girl was somebody's friend. That girl probably had siblings. Her parents probably called her their princess.

And in just a few moment, without even a second thought, she had killed her. Taken her life and blew it out like someone blowing out a candle-flame. With only the faint traces of smoke serving as the leftover memory of who that person once used to be. All of those loved ones were going to cry for her blood. Demand that she die so that their daughter may have justice.

The Peacekeepers placed Avery inside a room. In an attempt to push the thoughts of the girl being killed aside, she paced the room. Even though the two chairs were inviting, she couldn't bring herself to sit in them. Doing so would only remind her of why she had killed the girl. For this. Luxury. Money and luxury. For her family and Michael.

She just hoped that they would understand.

Before she had any time to recollect herself (which was rather difficult to do as it was) she heard the door of the room open. Her first visitors had arrived. Vincent and Brooke stepped into the room. Their eyes were opened wide in surprise. Their movements were slow and uncertain. As if they were very afraid to even get anywhere near her. The sickening feeling in the pit of Avery's stomach grew. Her heart wanted to fall apart. The urge to run over to her siblings, hug them tightly against her; reassure them everything would be alright, and then head out and tell the Peacekeepers that somebody else could take her place, was strong.

It took all the strength in her resolve and a lot of firm reminders of herself to keep her set on the decision to take part in the Games. Shaking herself mentally, she crouched down so that she was level to them. Spreading her arms open, she said gently, "Vincent, Brooke, come to me."

They just looked at her. Speechless. Their mouths were opened widely, but they couldn't speak. Almost as if they had forgotten how to.

Avery couldn't take it anymore. She quickly walked over to them. A strong sense of hurt came to her as they both flinched. Refusing to let that stop her though, she pulled them closely to her, wrapping her arms tightly around so that they wouldn't try to get away. That was when she heard the sniffles. A sob rattled from Brooke's chest and soon made it's way out of her mouth, pouring into Avery's ears. Vincent was doing his best not to cry. She could hear his sniffles though, and her shoulder was starting to get wet from what must have been his tears.

"Shh," she tried to say to them, rubbing her hands across their backs like she usually did whenever she tried to calm them.

"Why did you kill that girl, Avery?" Brooke whimpered.

"Why didn't you just let her take your place?" Vincent asked, whimpering as well.

Avery sighed. She had dreaded this moment. "I did it for us."

They both broke out into tears that moment. "Don't cry," she tried saying soothingly. "Everything will be fine now. It's alright. Everything will be alright."

That was when Brooke spoke. "No it won't, Avery!"

The certainty in her sister's voice made Avery want to back away. Did her little sister, the one who always had faith in her, believe that she couldn't do this? For some reason that hurt worse than anything else she had ever experienced before. The urge to break down and sob alongside her siblings was very strong and tempting. It took all her strength not to though. She refused to show weakness, even to her siblings. They needed to know that she could be strong for them. That she would do anything for them. If that meant having to kill twenty-three other kids to do it, she would. The thought wasn't pleasant. But she couldn't continue living the life she had. She couldn't continue seeing Brooke and Vincent struggle. They weren't going to get anywhere with the life that they had. They needed something better.

"Please don't go," pleaded Vincent.

If only she didn't have to. "I have no choice," she said gently, feeling her voice starting to crack a bit from holding back the sobbing urges. "I have to do this. For both of you. And Michael too." Michael. If her siblings were feeling this way... acting like this... she almost didn't want to see him. What was he thinking now? Clearly a lot, otherwise he would have entered with Brooke and Vincent. There must be a lot he wanted to say.

"If you die then our life will never be the same!" exclaimed Brooke.

Avery forced a smile to her lips. She didn't even want to think about the possibility of dying. Not just dying either. But dying in a way that was most likely going to be a long and painful way. She turned her head and looked her sister in the eyes. The pleading in them, the sadness, the feeling of distraught. All of it being portrayed in just those two little brown eyes. The same eyes the two of them both shared. The same eyes that they had both inherited from their mother. Combine that with Vincent, who looked just like their father with his big brown eyes and combed hair. Seeing him with the sad look was harder than looking at the pleading eyes of Brooke. Vincent was usually carefree and happy. Always able to look on the bright side of things.

Perhaps after all these years, he found something that he couldn't see a bright side too.

Looking both of her siblings in the eyes, she reached into her hair and slowly took out the hair-tie that she had put in before they had gone to the Square. She reached out for Brooke's hand. Her sister willingly allowed her to hold it, even though she still looked nervous. Opening her hand, Avery placed the hair-tie in her sister's hand.

It was only then she had noticed the hair-tie's color. It was a blue color. A soft, light blue. Like the sky sometimes was whenever there weren't any clouds. On days whenever the smoke from the stone mines that filled the air of District Two wasn't blocking it. A rare occasion. Sky blue was a very important color in Two. It symbolized hope and promise. That no matter how far away a person may be, they would always love those who were remaining in the District. It was a common but still heart-wrenching sight in Two. Being the place where not only stone came from, but also the place where most of the Peacekeepers came from and the training for those Peacekeepers took place, it was quite common for men and women about to be shipped off across Panem to give loved ones something sky blue. Usually rocks, to show that their love was strong and wouldn't break easily. Promising that no matter what, no matter how far or how long they would be, their love would always be there. When people started dating, they gave each other sky blue flowers that grew in the mountains. The dresses that the women wore whenever they wedded were usually light blue, and the men usually wore ties that were the same color. The sky was was vast, and so out of reach. But it was always there. Just like those who had to be shipped off to various Districts. So far away, yet always there.

For Two, sky blue was the color that had come to symbolize hope.

Her sister's eyes brightened slightly when she saw the color. Like all people in Two, she knew what sky blue stood for. She looked at Avery with pleading eyes. "You will try to come back, right? No matter what?"

"No matter what," Avery confirmed.

"Please come back," Vincent said. "I'm going to miss you. I'm going to be stuck with only Brooke for a sister if you don't." Avery couldn't help but laugh as Brooke stuck her tongue out. Before they knew, they were both laughing. For the first time, joy had entered the room. The happiness becoming more and more profound the longer the laughter lasted.

Sadly that had to come to an end as the Peacekeeper opened the door, telling them that Brooke and Vincent's times were up. Hugging them closely to her one more time, Avery kissed them on the top of their heads. Rumpling their hair between her fingers. Afraid that if she didn't get one last touch of them, they would fade from her forever. "I will come back, no matter what. I promise. When you see that train rolling into the station the next time, I'll be on it. Waiting to wrap the two of you in my arms."

They nodded, and looked like they wanted to say more. But the Peacekeeper was starting to walk into the room now, about ready to pull them out. Avery threw him an angry glare and he stopped dead in his tracks. Inwardly she smiled. At least something good came out of killing that girl for the spot. The Peacekeeper wouldn't even meet her eyes as he led her brother and sister gently out the door. His eyes focused on the floor until the door shut behind him and was followed by a click of the lock.

Avery decided to take a seat in one of the chairs. She had practically been standing all day, and just wanted to rest her feet for a bit. At first when she sat down, she was afraid the haunting thoughts of killing the girl, and never seeing her brother and sister again, would continue haunting her. Thankfully though, right before they did, Michael entered. There was an expression on his face that she found hard to discern what emotions were being portrayed. She could definitely see hurt. And anger. Whenever he was angry, Michael's teeth were always clenched and his eyebrows would always be slanted downwards, unmoving except for when he chose to let it. There was something else there too, she couldn't figure out what though.

For a moment the two of them just sat- or in Michael's case stood- where they were. Their eyes fixed on one another. Unmoving. Never dropping their gazes even for a moment. She could tell he wanted to say something. Judging from his look, she figured he wanted to know why she had decided to do this. Annoyance began to sweep through her. How many times was it going to take for her to explain why she did something and finally have someone understand why she did it? And how many times was it going to take until Michael got it in his thick skull that she was doing it for them? That she was taking part in the Hunger Games, going to kill all these kids for _them_. Every time she told him, he would give her excuses. Or try to convince her otherwise. She never listened of course. Still, he kept trying. And last night when they were discussing this, he didn't look all very eager. More like upset. Uncertain. Of course he was though, he didn't think this was a wise decision. Even went so far as to tell her that she was crazy if she even decided it. He even said it would hurt him if she did.

That was when she realized the other emotion on his face. The one she couldn't quite understand at first. Now she could see it perfectly clear.

The feeling was betrayal.

It hurt her to see him like that. Honestly, it did. She loved Michael. No, not in that way. Not the kind of love where people who were in it ended up kissing and hugging and such. Okay, perhaps that wasn't one hundred percent true. Maybe there was something there. Nothing major. Just a twinge. Wasn't enough for either one of them to really act on it though. Of course, she knew that Michael did. He tried to hide it, but she could see it. Not only when he talked with her, but also the way he acted around her. She didn't see him very often with any girls, but the ones she did see him with he never acted the same way as he did when she was with him. When he was with her, he opened himself up more. Always appearing cold and distant to others, he allowed her to be near him. And she was pretty sure her and her siblings were the only ones who had ever heard him laugh. His laugh was kind of funny sounding because it was out of practice, but it was still welcoming and warm when she heard it.

In a way, perhaps she had liked him. Now when she looked at him, she found herself wondering. What would life be like if they had gone a step further? What if they had been more than just friends? What would have happened to them? Would they still be where they were? Possibly. She didn't see how falling in love with Michael got them out of the situation they were in. Perhaps it wouldn't have been as rough. Or then again, it could have been. It's not easy to enter a relationship with your best friend, and when you come out to be best friends afterwards. No. She wasn't willing to give up her friendship with him for the sake of romance. Especially if ended badly in the end.

She pushed those thoughts aside though. This was not the time for her to starting thinking about whats, ifs, and romances. It was time she focused on the Games. As soon as she stepped out these doors, she was going to treat every moment as if she were in the arena. No way was she going to let her thoughts distract her from her goal. Which was why she finally said, "Look Michael, I know you're mad at me." She stood up and walked slowly over to him. "Believe me, I do. I know you feel hurt and betrayed. Don't you see though? This is the only chance we have. In order to get out of poverty, something drastic had to be done. I said it to you once, I'm going to say it again. I'm doing it for all of us. I'm going to go to the Capitol and I'm going to the arena. I'll do whatever it takes to win. Then I'll come back, and we'll be out of poverty. We'll never have to work again. Don't you see? I have to do this. None of the rest of you could, I was the only one. I'm the only one who can get us out. I'm the only one who can bring us the money."

For the first time since before the Reaping had started, he spoke. "Will it be worth it?"

This surprised her. Not only surprised, but had left her completely off guard. What did he mean would it really be worth it? Getting out of poverty was a good thing. Surely that made up more than enough for killing twenty-three other kids. "What do you mean?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Will it be worth it? Going there and having them use you for entertainment purposes. To possibly lose your life. Or if you do win, to have twenty-three lives you took haunting you forever. Will it be worth all that?"

Avery frowned. "It will be if it means providing us a better future." However when she said that, she couldn't tell if she was certain now or not.

Michael looked at her. There was a longing there. She could see it. He wanted her to come back with him. They hadn't left yet. It wouldn't be too late to say that she didn't want to. Surely there was some other girl out there who would want to take her place. Refusing to give in though, she looked away from his eyes. Instead she let her eyes roam down to his hands, where he was gripping something. "What's that?" she asked.

It took him a moment to register what it was she was asking. He shook his head, clearing his mind of whatever thoughts were roaming around in them. He then held out what it was he was holding. "This was for you," he said. "I bought it for you last year. I've been keeping it secret so that I could give it to you for your birthday." He sighed. "I knew when you told me last night you were going to volunteer. I didn't want you to, still don't. But I brought this for you." She took the little black box from him gently, looking at it curiously. "I figured it would make a good token." He paused for a few moments. When she made no movements, he said to her gently, "Open it."

At first she started to, but she stopped. Avery looked at him with a determined expression. She was hurting. Honestly, she thought this was going to hurt her more than it was him. But she had to. Anything to get him to accept the fact that she was going. She grabbed his hand and jammed the box back into it. "No," she said. "I'm not opening it."

His eyes furrowed in shock. "Why?"

"I'm not going to accept it unless you accept the fact that I am going."

"Avery-"

"No!" she snapped. "I'm going! There's nothing you can do about it. Nothing at all. Do you understand me?" She turned away, her eyes focusing on the floor. She could literally hear her heart cracking into a thousand pieces like a broken glass vase being smashed on the floor. "If you can't accept that, then we can't be friends anymore." She took a deep breath. She hoped this would work. Everything was in a dangerous balance now. It was a drastic measure, but she had to take it. She couldn't go in the arena with the thought of Michael always worrying about her haunting the back of her mind. It would be a huge distraction.

This was probably going to kill her on the inside. If he decided to end their friendship, what would she do? She'd only have Vincent and Brooke to come back to. That's if she was lucky. If she wasn't friends with Michael anymore, would he even bother to care for them?

No, Michael would still care for them. At least until she got back. Then he'd go, and get a house of his own somehow. They'd never see each other again unless they crossed each other in places like the markets or the shoppes.

Looking at it now, Avery saw that losing Michael was too much too bear. They were too close in friendship. Their need for a partnership to keep each other going was what brought them together. Made them friends. Was what turned them to best friends. Were they really going to let this destroy that friendship?

Michael was silent for a few moments. From the corner of his eye, she could see him make many attempts to speak. To say something. But he couldn't. There was nothing he could say. She held her breath, wondering what he would do next. Hoping it was acceptance.

"Fine, I accept it." Relief swept through Avery when she heard the words. She turned her head. When she looked at his face, he could see there was regret there. Regret, but acceptance as well. "I accept the fact that you are going. Doesn't mean I like it though."

She nodded in approval. "I didn't say you had to like it," she said with a smile. Despite his attempts not to, she could see a smile showing on his face as well. It made her heart feel like it was being reassembled. That was what was amazing about their friendship. No matter how many times they may get into arguments and fights, they would always be able to make up afterwards. Sure they weren't married, and they didn't like each other that way. But they acted like it nevertheless. That's technically what you did in marriage anyway, wasn't it? Sure people went on about love and caring and other things. (Yes, including sex.) But marriage was definitely not just about being happy. Avery didn't know a lot about these things, she knew that much from what she saw of her parents when they were alive. Marriage was more than just the happy times. It was also about going through the worst times together. Even when things got rough between the people who were in the relationship. Fighting was going to happen. Every time you fought though, afterward you kissed and made up.

It was pretty much the same thing she and Michael had done for the past few years. Ever since the odds or fate or whatever it was had thrown the two of them together. The only difference, was that there weren't any romantic feelings between them. At least, feelings they were willing to show.

Michael then handed the box to her. She took it and opened it. Her eyes widened. She felt tears of joy start to come to her eyes. For inside the box was a sky blue stone, well polished, smooth. And of course...very beautiful.

"I found the stone while passing by the stone mines," he explained. "I figured it must have been leftover from a pile." He took the stone from the box and placed it gently in her hand, cupping her fingers around it. "I figured you would want it. You always used to say that without hope, man is nothing. I did want to make a necklace out of it, but I couldn't afford it."

A smile spread across his face. "Do you like it?" he asked her

She smiled. "I love it." Her hand reached up and took the stone between her fingers. She raised it so that she could look at it more closely. A smile spread across her face as well. Sky blue. Longing. Promise. Hope.

All three of those things were being represented in this little blue stone that fit in the palm of her hand.

That was when she realized what this could mean. What he was considering. She looked up at him and opened her mouth to protest. He chuckled first though. Speaking before she could. "No, I didn't mean for it to be that way."

Avery breathed a sigh of relief. Good. She didn't need the stress of Michael possibly trying to perform a proposal distracting her.

Before either one of them could say more though, the Peacekeeper opened the door. "Time for you to go, pal," he said. Then looking at Avery he said, "The train is here, so you're going too."

Avery felt her breath catch in her chest. This was it.

She felt Michael squeeze her into his chest tightly, wrapping his arms around her. She threw her arms around him. For a moment, she could feel her eyes starting to water. Tears were actually starting to well up in her eyes. She was relieved that Vincent and Brooke weren't seeing it. "Take care of them, Michael."

"I will," he said. "I promise."

And with that, the Peacekeeper grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pushed him out of the room. The door closed for a minute. Then it opened again, and Avery found herself being escorted out of the room and down the hall by two Peacekeepers. They walked down the hall until they met the two Peacekeepers who were escorting Mason Ryker at the entrance of the Justice Building. Judging from his face, she could tell he was excited for this moment. No doubt he had been dreaming of this day since he could first use a little plastic sword without hurting himself.

She took in a deep breath just as they went through the door. This was it.

Finally, she was beginning the next step in her journey to enter the Games.

. . . .

It was almost too hard for Mason to believe. As he passed through the cheering crowd as they cheered his name, as he waved to the crowd of cheering Capitolites and screaming citizens of District Two. As he gave quick interviews to the Capitolite reporters. Pride swept through him. Eagerness coursed through his veins. It was difficult keeping all the feelings he had locked inside. Everything he had ever worked towards had finally got him here. Years of intense training, years of eating healthy foods that weren't very appetizing at times, and years of coaching in various courses such as public speaking had paid off.

The smile on his face grew. The road was all smooth from here.

Because there was no doubt about it, he was going to win these Games.

After he and Avery had stood outside of the entrance of the car of the train so the cameras could gobble their images, they were quickly allowed inside. Capitol attendants offered to escort them through the car, but they had both declined. Mason looked around and smiled. So it was true. The Capitolite trains really were more luxurious and fancy than anything he had seen in the Justice Building. Heck, even the rooms of the Justice Building didn't have the same kind of furnishing. Whole cars dedicated just for dining! Cars divided into compartments. Floors that looked like it had never been walked on until they had arrived and started walking on it. This was a luxury fit for a prince.

Or a Hunger Games tribute.

Not long after they found a living area that had a huge television screen sitting on a table nailed to the floor, Avery told him that she was going to go check out the rooms. He nodded, thinking he would just stay here. After what he had seen this Nicholet girl did, he wasn't sure he wanted to be around her for a while yet. He knew he could take her, easily. Still, nobody defeated Helen Nain the way Avery had. How she had managed to do it was beyond him. Whatever it was, it was clear she hadn't learned it at the Academy. Not by the way she seemed ill-prepared in everything else.

When he heard the door to one of the chambers shut, he decided at that moment perhaps he should check out his chamber as well. They wouldn't be using it long. District Two was just located outside of the Rocky Mountains, where the Capitol was nestled. It would only take a couple of hours to get there, if that. Still, he did want to change out of his Reaping clothes and put something less formal on.

The chambers were just as impressive as the rest of the car. Not even his own room was this good. Not wanting to spend all his time in a chamber though, he quickly went over to the dresser. He selected a blue shirt with short sleeves that came just above his biceps and helped add definition to his upper body. Then took out a pair of black casual pants. After changing out of his Reaping clothes and slipping the ones he had just chosen on, he went to the bathroom and checked himself in the mirror. Combing down a few strands of hair that stuck up kind of funny, he nodded in approval and then left the chamber.

Once he had left the chamber, he walked over to one of the chairs in the living area and took a seat. It would be a while before Ketta Brindle would fetch Avery and him so they could have lunch. The ridiculous woman must be in the food cart. Probably flirting with the attendants or stuffing her mouth with Capitol food or something. She tried to make herself look young, but everyone knew she was probably in her late thirties. That plastic surgery really wasn't helping her. All it succeeded in doing was making her look like a giant plastic doll. A smile crept across his face as he thought about it. Those thoughts reminded him of times he and Tiger made fun of her. Mocking the way she looked, the way her hands flew around like a dove every time she said something, and mimicking her accent (Tiger put on an excellent impression, she even had the voice down!).

Thinking about that brought on the memory of his goodbyes...

Right after Mayor Daring had finished reading the Treaty of Treason, the Anthem of Panem had played the Reapings out. Two Peacekeepers had escorted him off the stage, and another two had escorted Avery. As soon as they had entered the Justice Building, Mason had been led down the right hallway while Avery had been led down the left. After passing a few doors, the Peacekeepers stopped at one and opened it. Mason didn't even need to be told. Obediently, he entered the doorway.

"Hey," one of the Peacekeepers, a woman, probably early twenties at the latest, with short red hair and a pointed chin had asked. "You're Head Peacekeeper Ryker's son aren't you?"

Mason had smiled. "I am."

She had nodded in approval. "Well done, kid. I'm going to be rooting for you through the whole thing. I'll even send money to sponsor you."

Mason's smile had grown. "Thanks. Though I have a feeling I won't need too much help. The Games are in the bag with this one."

She had nodded her understanding. Before she closed the door she had said, "May the odds be in your favor."

The door had been closed and locked. As soon as he had heard it, he took a look around. He was actually kind of impressed. When you were the son of a Head Peacekeeper, you got to have it better than most. Not that people in District Two were ever really in any need. As the District that provided Panem with nearly eighty percent of their Peacekeepers and the stone they used to fortify the Capitol, and not to mention weapons, they were already a Capitol favorite, and in doing so got more than other Districts had.

The room did look pretty cool. The furniture was made of rich, soft material. Probably some of the finest that District Eight had to offer. He took a seat on the couch before stretching out on it. Resting head on one of the rests and propping his feet on the other, he relaxed. In just a few minutes, people would be entering the room to say goodbye.

He knew that Tiger would definitely be coming to say goodbye. So wouldn't his father, though he would probably be the last one because he had to finish the final drilling of the Peacekeepers before he could come and see him. Pine would definitely come. He shuddered at that thought. For a while, he had been thinking about breaking up with her. Now with this whole picture stunt, he was going to have to do it. If he didn't, there was no telling what was going to happen. (Besides, he was getting tired of her high-pitched voice anyway.) Jason and Orion would more than likely come. There was was one other person he wanted to be there, but had never shown up in his life. Fading from it when he had turned one year old...

The person he was thinking of was of course, his mother.

He didn't know much about her. His father hadn't always been forthcoming whenever he asked about her. He had seen a picture of her once. She was a beautiful woman. She had straight blond hair and tanned skin. Her eyes were an amazing liquid golden brown color, the same kind of eyes that he had. His father's eyes were a blue color, so it was clear that Mason had inherited his eyes from her. When he asked about her name, all his father told him was that her first name was Almira. When he had asked his father why she had left, he had always said he didn't know. All he knew was that for some reason, District Two couldn't keep her tied down. One day without even telling him, while he was at the Justice Building, she packed her belongings and left. Everything that was hers she took.

All except for Mason.

He wouldn't admit it, but Mason felt abandoned. Why did she go and not take him with her? Couldn't she afford him? Or did she not want him? Had she even loved him? How could someone just leave and not take their child with them? Actually, how could anyone just up and leave without telling anyone? If his father was abusive, maybe he'd understand. But the problem was, his father wasn't like that. In fact, he was actually quite nice and had never hit anyone aside from a few slaps to the back of head to Peacekeepers who needed wake-up calls. Still.

The question had been haunting him for years. He still had no answer.

He had to snap himself from his thoughts, because that was when Pine decided to enter. The grin on her face was spread from ear to ear. She had practically been bouncing with excitement. A shrill of joy escaped her, all high-pitched. That desire to cleanse his ears had started to come to him as she walked over to him. "Oh Mason, you're so brave!" she exclaimed joyfully. "You really are my Victor with a shimmering sword!" Next thing he knew, she was hugging him and kissing him on the lips. He could feel her tongue running across his, seeking an entrance. He didn't give her the satisfaction though. It was about time he got Pine out of his life for good. There was no way he was going to have her ruin his chances of winning the Games with her stupidity.

She pulled away, realizing there was something not right about the way he was acting. "Mason, babe, are you okay?"

"We need to talk."

"About what?" she asked, her voice rising as she asked the question, her eyebrows furrowing upwards as well.

He sighed. "This can't keep going Pine."

"What can't keep going?"

"This thing between us," he said. Her eyes opened wide in shock. "What we have, it can't go on."

"Are you saying you're breaking up with me?" she asked in horror, her voice becoming more high-pitched. "Why, what did I do? Please tell me, babe. I can fix it, I promise."

"_Yeah right," _Mason thought. "_It'll take you twenty years and you'll be lucky if you've learned the alphabet by then._" Instead of saying that out loud, he said, "I just can't continue this."

"But why?" she whined. "Please Mason, don't break up with me."

Clearly the nice guy approach wasn't working. Time to be a little more forceful. "Look, I don't like you anymore. It was great while it lasted, but it's honestly not working out between us."

"But Mason!" she had whined. "I'm a great girlfriend. I don't understand? Why?" Her whining had become so high-pitched that until now he thought it was not humanly possible for anyone's voice to be that high.

_"This girl needs to learn how to understand no,_" he thought. He hated to do this, but he had no choice. It was time to use the jerk approach. "You annoy the hell out of me. Seriously, all you do is talk about your clothes or what so-and-so said. And I am about ready to rip off my ears because your voice is so whiny I have to literally scrub my ears after every time you and I meet up."

That had ticked her off. Her nostrils had flared, her eyes had started burning with rage. They had actually looked kind of scary. Who knew Pine could look so deadly? She had then pointed at his chest with a recently manicured finger and starting poking him there. "You listen here, asshole," she said through clenched teeth. "Nobody, and I mean _nobody_ breaks up with me. I'm the one who does the dumping. I have a perfect record of not being dumped. And nobody, not even _you_, is going to ruin that record."

Mason grinned. This girl clearly didn't get it did she? "I'm sorry, but I think _I_ just did."

Pine had leaned in closer. Her eyes had started blazing. "You listen to me," she had growled. "I'm giving you one last chance. If you do this, I will make sure you will regret it." That was when her hand went to her locket. "You see this? I will show this to the whole world. Some Capitolite will pay top dollar in order to get this picture." She had opened the locket and pointed to the picture of him in the towel.

He had laughed. "Go ahead, the Capitol will want to see it. It'll just add more Sponsors for me." He shifted his body so he was in a very provocative pose for someone who had all his clothes on. To complete the look, he put on one of his best arrogant grins. "The Capitol loves it when they see attractive Tributes showing some skin."

"I'll show it to the Academy headmasters, then," she had threatened. "They'll pull you out of the Games in no time. I'm sure somebody would be eager to take your place."

The look had been in her eyes showed she wasn't playing around. He had to think of something quick. He had to get that necklace. How though? Just by her mood, he could tell he wasn't just going to get it from her by saying he would take it back. Knowing as spiteful as she was, she'd do it anyway. Pine wasn't one for letting the guys she dated have any power.

Power! That was it!

"You won't, because I have a picture of you too."

"What are you talking about?" she had asked, her eyes suddenly widening in horror. Clearly she hadn't expected this to happen.

"I have a picture of you. That first night when you and did it. Remember when started peeling off everything and you allowed me to take pictures with my phone while you were doing it? Yeah, they're still on there." He pointed at the picture in the locket. "You show that to the headmasters of the Career Academy, and I'll show them the photos of you doing that. Then we'll both be banned."

"You wouldn't!" she had exclaimed. "If anyone found out I was messing around with any boys my family will be scandalized!"

He had grinned mischievously. Just one more statement would get her where he wanted her. "Hey, it's up to you, either give me the photo or you can ruin my career and in the process dredge up a scandal about your family. Your choice."

Her nostrils flared furiously again. The look in her eyes had shown that she was defeated. Moodily, she had taken off the locket and shoved it in his hand. "Take it, jerk. I don't want anything that reminds me of you, anyway." She had started to walk in the direction of the door. Stopping dead in her tracks though, she had spun on her heels and walked back towards him.

Next thing he knew there was a stinging, tingling sensation across his right cheek. His head jerked to the left, his blond hair falling into his eyes. Did she just...? He looked up and saw her hand returning to her side. A satisfied grin had appeared on her expression. "Damn, bitch!" he had exclaimed. "Did you just slap me?"

She had shrugged, a grin still played on her face. "Have a nice life," she said. "I hope you die in the arena. Preferably ripped to shreds by some mutt. And I hope it feels like hell."

"Hell? Please, being your boyfriend was more hell than what an arena could possibly bring on."

She had stormed off without a word, the door slamming behind her.

A few seconds later Tiger entered the room. There was an amused smile on her face. "I take it you broke up with Pine?" she asked.

"Yeah," Mason said, removing his hand from his face. "Gave me this to go with it."

She winced. "Yeah, breaking up with girls results in those kinds of things. Of course, you probably knew that. Remember Cathy Mollini?"

Cathy Mollini was a girl that Mason had dated back when he was sixteen. Their relationship had only lasted six days, four of which they had done nothing besides...well...that. When he broke up with her, she had slapped him across the face too. Not wanting to be reminded of that incident (Cathy was at the top of list of his regret list, now being replaced by Pine) he said, "On the bright side, I got the locket."

"The whole thing," she said in surprise, her tone impressed. "Wow. You did something to piss her off that much?" She smiled. "No wonder she snarled and cussed me out as I passed her down the hallway. I'll have to get her back for that later."

Mason handed Tiger the locket. "Could you take care of this? I really don't want it."

She smiled and took the locket in her hands. "I'll burn the pictures and sell the locket for some extra money."

He smiled. "Perfect."

"You want half the money?"

"Nah, what would I want more money for? When I win the Games, I'm going to be rich."

"First you got to win them first."

Leave it to Tiger to always keep him level. "Right."

That was when she started reaching her hand to her neck. He watched as she slipped off a gold-chain necklace with a golden round-shaped locket dangling from it off her neck.. She held the locket in her hands. Her one finger tracing the smooth outer-edge gently. "Here, take this as your token," she said.

His eyes had widened. "I remember giving this to you!"

She smiled. "You gave it to me on my thirteenth birthday. Remember? You and Orion got in that fight over who was more likely to win a wrestling match."

Mason chuckled. "Yeah, I took him down in under twenty seconds." He frowned slightly. He opened the locket and found a picture of himself and Tiger. They were both thirteen years old, yet very little had changed about them. Other than the fact that they had both gotten taller. And he had grown his hair out a little. And no doubt he had put on more muscle. Still, they still pretty much looked the same.

He glanced up from the picture and looked at Tiger. "Tiger, I can't take this from you. It was a gift."

She smiled. "Come on, please. I don't want you going without there being a memory of me in your grasp."

"I could never forget you," he had said. His grin had spread. "You,re too much like a sister for me to forget you."

She had laughed warmly. "Please take it," she had said, her expression returning to serious. "You can give it back to me after you win."

He had sighed, his grin getting larger and nodded. "I can never win an argument with you for some reason."

They had laughed. The door opened though, and their happiness quickly ebbed away as the Peacekeeper it was time for Tiger to go. Quickly, they threw their arms around one another, holding each other close. "I will win," he promised her.

"By the way, Jason and Orion said they couldn't come. They have to help with taking care of Helen. She was their cousin."

He nodded his understanding. He knew that both Jason and Orion were cousins to Helen. No doubt her death was hard. And he could picture Jason and Orion calling for Avery's blood to be spilled when the time came. No doubt they would want him to do it. "Tell them I said goodbye, and thanks for not getting in my way this year. And that I'll be sure to thank them properly when I came back as Victor."

"You'd better," she had answered. Pulling away, she said, "May the odds be in your favor."

"They already are."

And with that, she had left the room. Her figure disappearing behind the door. And in that moment, Mason had truly started to realize something. Though he never tried to think about it, the thought still came. Sometimes in his dreams. Or in passing whenever he watched Hunger Games recaps. It was not a thought he wanted to dwell on, but it still came up. That thought was death. Death was a possibility. Even despite his skills, someone else could still win, and that somebody probably wouldn't be him.

The thought of dying made him shiver. If he did, he would never see Tiger again.

"_Guess that's why I had better win_," he had thought.

The final person who had come to see him was his father. There was an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry it took me a while son, I had to finish up the final drill of the Peacekeepers before I came."

Mason had shrugged. "Don't worry, I've gotten used to it." While in a way that was true, he still felt slightly hurt. He knew his father couldn't help it. When you were Head Peacekeeper, you had a lot of responsibility on your plate. Still, it hurt.

His father noticed the locket necklace he wore around his neck. "I take it Pine gave you that?"

Mason shook his head. "Nope, Tiger did." He had opened the locket up so he could show the picture of him two of them in it. "She gave this to me." A smile came across his face as he had took another look at the picture. "She wanted me to have it as my token."

"How come Pine didn't give anything to you?"

"I broke up with her."

His father had frowned. "You do know she's the Mayor's niece? She could try and make your public image look bad."

"Don't worry, I took care of that."

"You'd better. Or else you could end up facing a hell of a time when you get to the Capitol."

"Trust me Dad, I'm fine."

His father nodded. "I hope so, for your sake." He was silent for a moment. "I really am proud of you, you know?"

Mason nodded. "I know, Dad."

"You've worked very hard at this, harder than anyone else going to that arena. Show the audience what you can do. They love the vicious Tributes that are also charming and calculative. Be sure you give them a good show."

Mason smiled. "Don't worry, I will. And I'm coming home, no matter what."

His father laughed. "Good."

"I just wish Mom could be here." Mason sighed, and walked over to the couch. Instead of sitting down though, he remained standing. His eyes faced the opposite side of the wall. There were no windows, but it didn't matter. His mother could be anywhere. Heck, she could even be in the District, if she ever decided to come back. "Dad, did Mom leave because of me? Because I was born?"

His father frowned fiercely. He walked over and turned Mason around by the soldiers. Even though Mason was eighteen years old, by the way his father looked at him you would have thought he was eight. "Don't ever say that, Mason. Never. Your Mom did not leave because of you. She loved you very much. You were practically her whole world when you were born. Before she left, she always used to sing you a lullaby evey night to get you to sleep. Every morning she'd wake up and tend to your fussing. And she was always happy whenever she cradled you in her arms. I have no idea why she wanted to be transferred. All she told me was that there was something that she was involved with. I begged her to stay and tell me more, but she wouldn't. When I got home from the Justice Building the next evening, she was gone.

"I'm not certain why she left, but I do know it was because she felt it was best for you."

"She sure has a great way to show it."

"I do know one other thing. If she could see you now, she'd be very proud of you."

"Really?"

He had nodded. "Really. You have grown to become a handsome and fine young man. Not only that, you've trained all your life for this moment. Wherever she is, I know she would be proud. "

That was when the Peacekeeper had poked her head in and had told them that it was time for Mason's father to leave. And also that he was about to depart to the Capitol. Mason's father had patted him on the back and hugged him closely. Something that he never did often. Not since Mason had turned twelve and decided he was too old for hugs. Normally he would have been embarrassed, by Mason had tolerated it. Hugging his father back in return. Even after all the times that his father had hounded him about noting his weaknesses and turning them into strengths and all that other nonsense, he still loved him. Nothing would ever stop him from that.

"May the odds be in your favor, son," his father had said.

Mason had let go of his father, and gave him one last smile before he left. "They already are," he had said. "They already are, Dad."

Coming out of the flashback, Mason found Ketta Brindle standing before him. She was grinning from ear to ear excitedly. "Come along Mason," she said. "Let's grab a few snacks from the food car and then come back here. We'll have a chance to eat lunch later. Right now, we need to introduce you and Avery to your Mentors. And we need to take a look at the Reaping Recaps."

His stomach was starting to growl, so Mason decided to follow the gaudy creature that walked around with her hands waving around like a dove about to take off. When he entered the Dining Car, he soon found that he and Ketta weren't alone. Avery was standing by the table, looking completely surprised at what kind of food had been set on the table. From the way she looked, you would have thought she had never seen food like this before. He grinned at her as he walked over to the table and picked up a slice of orange from his tray, which had been served with some pieces of roast duck with a side of green salad and a dinner roll. Avery had picked out a slice of duck and took a slice of orange as well. She looked over at him, and shot him a glare. If looks could kill, Mason had a feeling he would have been a goner. Even if she wasn't a typical Career, it was clear that whatever had brought her here, it had made her deadly. He needed her as an ally as long as possible. At least until he and the rest of the Careers had taken out their other opponents. "Hey," he said to her politely.

She just ignored him. Ketta called for them to follow her, and he could see the wince on Avery's face. Clearly she didn't like their Escort any more than he did. At first he had thought that it would be hard to find something to bridge the gap he had formed between them. Now he had something. Deciding not to waste it, he said, "I wish she would shut up sometimes. She's driving me nuts with that voice of hers."

Her expression, which had been hard and cold only a few seconds ago, started to melt a little. "Yeah," she said. "She's getting on my nerves. Her hands are what drive me nuts."

Perfect. He let out a light chuckle. "I know. She must think she's part bird or something. I swear with the way she flaps them around she looks like one."

"She kind of sounds like one too."

"I bet she had her vocal cords worked on so she could sound like it."

She nodded, a smile actually appearing on her face. Good. It meant it was working. "Yeah, I bet." Her expression became hard and cold again. "You're just doing this just so you are on my good side. Even though I'm not a typical Career, you still think I will make a powerful ally."

So she preferred honesty. Okay. He could do honesty. "Yeah, pretty much."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, whatever. Considering that us Careers are supposed to ally and stick together, I'm willing to work with you. That does not mean we're friends. _Allies_ only. Try anything closer and I'll make your death long and painful. Got it?"

Mason nodded. This girl was all business. Good. He needed someone in the Career alliance like that. "Got it."

"Are you coming or what?" called Ketta from the living area.

Quickly, Mason and Avery made their way over to the living area compartment of the car. That was when they saw two other people standing in the room with Ketta. And those two people were none other than the Mentors for District Two that year. Apparently, it had been decided that Baron Lotter and Angie Fales would be their Mentors. Baron Lotter became a Victor of District Two when he was only twelve years old during the fourteenth Hunger Games. He had pretended to be a kid who had no skills in weapons. His opponents had left him alone. When it came down to the final nine, he managed to pick up a sword from a District Six Tribute who had been killed by a girl from Ten. Using that sword, he revealed his true ability to kill mercilessly by cutting down the last five Tributes besides him. Angie Fales was seventeen years old when she had been in the twenty-sixth Hunger Games, becoming the first female Career from Two to win. She was an expert with a bow, having been taught to use it from an early age. She took out seven of her opponents during her Games using a bow and arrow, including a giant kid from District Eight who could crush people just by wrapping his arms around them and squeezing them.

Mason knew they would be excellent Mentors. He smiled at Angie and winked at her. Now that he had broken up with Pine, he was back on the market. Not that he wanted to go out with Angie, she was a few years older than him. But he wanted to show Baron that he could charm girls. It was his job to figure out how Mason could use his abilities to make him more successful in the Games after all.

Angie winked back at him. However, she did say, "Sorry kid, I'm already taken." She held up her hand and he saw there was a wedding band on her finger. Looking him up and down, she said, "Otherwise, I may have actually considered."

Baron chuckled. "Well done. Angie isn't always the easiest to charm." He glanced towards her, smiling deviously when he said, "Though she isn't exactly the toughest."

"This coming from the guy who has slept with how many girls since he turned sixteen?" asked Angie, her own devil grin playing on her face.

That shut Baron up. He looked Mason up and down, nodding in approval. "You'll make an excellent Tribute. I have a feeling we have ourselves a winner here, Angie."

"What about me?" Avery asked.

Angie turned to her. "You did pretty well, I'll give you that," she said. "You have a possibility. I doubt you will win though. You're not exactly what Two is known for producing."

"I killed that girl didn't I?"

Mason frowned. He didn't exactly know Helen very well, still. She didn't seem like the kind of person that a person who killed her should only remember her by was _That Girl_. "Her name was Helen Nain," he said.

Angie eyed Avery up and down critically. "From what I can see, you're not even Academy material. Must have been self-trained or something."

Mason knew it. No wonder she was practically clueless on some of the techniques that Careers used, such as not showing any expression so that the audience could be drawn to them. Which she was doing now. Her horror was apparent. She now knew the girl's name. Mentally took good note of that. Knowing it would help serve him well for when he had to face in the arena.

"Let's watch the Reaping!" exclaimed Ketta excitedly.

Angie and Baron took seats on the couch. Mason remained standing, his arms folded across his chest. A proud smile across his face as the TV turned on and started recapping the Reapings. As he looked at the Tributes who were going to be taking part this year, he took note on them in case there was anything that could be useful about them. He also made sure to check the girls out too. The girl from One looked like a typical Career girl from that District, wearing a dress that was red as blood and her lips just as red too. She was going to be a reliable asset. Her attractiveness, on a scale from one to ten, Mason gave a seven. The boy from One was only thirteen years old and it made him growl in disbelief. Great. How were they going to possibly make up for him? He looked skilled for a kid his age, but he doubted he could do what people with more years of training could do. The boy and girl from Three weren't impressive physically, (he gave the girl a five on attraciveness) but knowing Three, those kids were more than likely smart. He grinned at the girl from District Four. He couldn't believe it, she was actually hotter that Pine! She was a little on the short side, but whatever. On a scale from one to ten she was definitely an eleven.

"She's definitely going to be in our Alliance," he said.

"Figures you would say that," Avery muttered.

"She is definitely sexy," Baron said. The way he said it showed that he wasn't attracted to her. He was just pointing out a fact. "And she has the looks of a Career. Bring her in the alliance, and we'll pull in Sponsors."

Angie swore. "Look! The boy from Four is even younger than the boy from One!" Everyone looked in disbelief and sure enough, he was. Only twelve years old, with hardly anything impressive about him.

"That's just great."

"The Career Districts have pretty young Tributes this year," Avery pointed out.

Mason felt frustration stir in him. What the hell? The odds were in his favor this morning. Now it seemed like they were done with doing him favors and were sending him pathetic-looking kids that would normally serve as his allies. "They'd better be pretty skilled," he growled.

"Maybe we'll see some more likable results in the others," Baron said, though his voice showed he wasn't positive.

The female Tribute from Five didn't look very impressive. He was surprised at how young these kids were. But the boy from her District looked pretty devious. He wasn't Career material. But no doubt he'd be an opponent to keep an eye on. The girl from Six was a lost cause (though he would give her a six in beauty). Especially when the boy who had been chosen was Thomas Morgan, the son of District Six's two past Victors. The moment he set eyes on him, Mason knew he was going to be trouble. Every inch of him betrayed the fact that he had been raised in case he would be entered for the Games. He was going to be a deadly adversary. If he had his way, he'd kill him as soon as he could.

The Tributes from Seven weren't very impressive in appearance either. (He gave the girl a four in beauty, a little too rugged in appearance.) However, there was something about the girl that said she was going to be a handful. When he pointed this out to his Mentors, they both agreed. "Keep an eye on her."

The Tributes from Eight to Ten weren't very impressive either. (The girl from Ten he rated a six. The others he left alone, he didn't hit on girls who were three years apart from him.) Even though the boy Tribute from Nine had volunteered for a kid that must have been his brother, Mason didn't see anything great about him. Eleven's boy Tribute looked promising, until he threw up all over the Escort. And as usual, Twelve's Tributes weren't impressive either. Though the Twelve boy was a little more decent than the rest.

Mason chuckled. "This is going to be an easy year," he said.

"Watch it," Baron said. "Don't ever get too cocky. Just because an opponent doesn't appear impressive doesn't mean that he or she isn't. You never know what can happen."

The smile on Mason's face stayed though. Even if his Mentor had doubts, he wasn't worried. This was going to be an easy year. Almost too easy. In fact, it was almost insulting.

Victory was in the bag.

**AN: Wow. Long chapter. Might want to get used to it, the Goodbyes and Train Rides are all going to be kind of long. :P**


	21. Chapter 20: D3 Goodbyes and Train Rides

**AN: Sorry for not updating in over a week. The Conference kept me from getting on the internet. And I still have summer work due. Hopefully the next update will come soon. No promises, but hopefully. **

**I would like to make something clear about this chapter. I mention a very sensitive subject that has been tossed around in the political field for years now. I would like to make something clear. I am writing the subject where you can interpret it your own way. You can choose to agree with it, or choose to disagree with it. It's completely up to you. Just do it respectfully. Honestly, I do have an opinion on the subject, but my goal with this fic isn't to bash people's heads with my beliefs. Okay? Glad we got that settled. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to contact me via PM. If you don't have one, you can probably get to me by either my blog or my livejournal, both of which I provided links to in my profile.  
**

**Brownie points goes to the one who can pick out the quote by Eleanor Roosevelt. :)**

**Oh yeah, one other thing. Bech is pronounced: beck. :) **

Chapter Twenty

D3 Goodbyes and Train Rides

Right after the Mayor had finished reading the Treaty of Treason and the Anthem played the Reapings out, Ada Brennan found herself escorted off the stage by two female Peacekeepers. From the corner of her eye, she saw Zeke was being escorted by Peacekeepers as well, except both of his were male. She couldn't see Zeke well from the angle she was at, but she had a feeling that he looked horrified. And judging from the way his palm was sweating when she was shaking his hand, no doubt very nervous. Normally she would have been slightly disgusted because she wasn't the greatest fan of sweat. But she wouldn't say anything about it. For all she knew, her own palm had been sweating when she shook his hand.

A sickening feeling started to form in her stomach. She could feel it churning uncomfortably, and was that just her imagination, or was that it sloshing against her side? She could feel a force in the back of her throat making her want to wretch. Only the fear of what the Peacekeeper would do if she threw up on her kept her sickness under lock. Once she got on the train to start heading to the Capitol, no doubt she'd have to make a bee-line for the bathroom.

"_If you ever feel sick Ada, recognize it, but don't show it. In war, there is no rest for the queasy. If your enemy sees you're weak, they will take full advantage of it_. _They will pull you down. Never give in_."

She took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. While it provided a slight sense of relief, it wasn't enough to take care of the ill feeling. At least her grandfather would be proud of her though.

The walk down the hallway to the room where she would be able to say goodbye to her loved ones was silent. Even more silent than the walk up to the stage. All she could hear was the sound of her and the Peacekeeepers' boots walking down the hall. Usually, Ada loved silence. It gave her a chance to think and without noise, she worked better. But right now, she wanted something, anything, to end the silence. It was driving her crazy. She could feel her world spinning. So many thoughts ran through her mind that they jumbled together. No matter how hard she tried to sort them out, she couldn't. All she could pick out were thoughts about her loved ones. Her father. Her mother. Her grandfather. And Isaac. Many of them were of Isaac.

Finally, she was placed inside the room that had been designated for this year's chosen Tribute (which was her this year) to say goodbyes. She didn't even bother examining what the room was like, she was too busy trying to gather her wits about her. Come up with a strategy. She didn't know how long she would last in an arena, especially if some of the Tributes had been training for the Hunger Games their whole lives. Still, one of the many things her grandfather stressed was to never enter something without a plan. Very few people ever won without one.

Before she could get some serious planning done, the door opened and her whole family entered. First came her mother, and then her father. Her grandfather came behind them, using his cane to help support his legs. His white hair was swept aside in tufts, and his glasses hung at the edge of his nose.

Her mother and father threw their arms around her. They pulled her close, and she could feel their tears run down from their cheeks and onto her dress-fabric-covered shoulder. Their bodies racked with sobs, and she could feel her own sobs causing her to rack as well. Tears started to spill from her eyes and flow down her cheeks. "I don't want to go," she whispered. "I don't want to die." She pulled away from her parents so she could look into their tear-filled eyes. "I don't want leave you. I don't want to leave District Three. I want to become a computer scientist and make computers. I want to be able to get married someday. Have my own kids." She sobbed and buried her face into the crook of her father's shoulders.

Ada felt his hand rub against her back gently and soothingly. "Shh," he said gently. "Hush now. Don't cry, my dear." From the way his voice choked though, she could tell he was at the point of falling into tears again. Her mother was already gone, Ada could actually feel the tears beading up in her hair and rolling down them like little dew drops on a spider web.

"Don't ever tell the girl not to cry," her grandfather's voice spoke. It wasn't critical like it usually was whenever he scolded her father. However, it was stern, and you could tell that the next words that were about to come out of his mouth were true. "A true soldier is never afraid to let his or her tears show," her grandfather continued. "Tears are not a weakness. They are a strength. Tears are what show that we aren't just mindless pawns walking around and killing just for the sake of it or, God forbid, the joy. They show that we are human, just like everyone else. Everyone has someone they love, whether they realize it or not." Slowly because of his age, the power that emanated from her grandfather's body seemed to fill the room. When you looked at him, you could tell he had seen many things. Things that probably no person should have seen. Heck, probably did things that he wasn't proud of. Ada knew there were some nights where her grandfather would wake up screaming from the nightmares. Dreams of all those who had either died at his hands or died as a result of what he did sometimes haunted him. Thinking about it made her want to just die right then. Even if she did survive, would survival be worth that?

"_They will be there for you_," a voice whispered in her ear. "_None of them will abandon you_. _The road of victory may be long, but they'll be there to support you_. _First you got to win though_."

She pulled herself from her thoughts as her grandfather continued speaking. "Stand tall, Ada. Don't be afraid to cry, but don't let the tears hold you back. A good soldier rises above the fear and the pain and hatred. A good soldier stands firm for what they believe, regardless of what they are met with. A good soldier never forgets why they are fighting."

That was when he reached into his pocket, and Ada watched as he pulled something from out of it. He reached out towards her, and gestured that he wanted her to open her hand. Obediently she did, and she felt something rigid and round in her hand. She looked, and her eyes opened with surprise. Her grandfather was really giving her this for her token?

It was his Medal of Honor. One that he received after he received an honorary discharge from the Rebellion army after he got severely wounded in the leg, the reason why he had to walk on a cane. The medal was made of bronze. Etched into the metal was an image of an eagle. In its talons it held an olive branch and thirteen arrows. It's wings were unfolded, and in its beak it carried a banner ribbon. Engraved were the words of some very language that Ada believed was Latin. She didn't speak the language herself, aside from a few words and phrases, but her Grandfather did. He was able to translate the writing on the medal to her the one day she asked what it meant. The Latin words were: _In libertas credimus_.

_In freedom we believe_. That was the English translation.

"Take this," her grandfather said just when she was about protest and say she couldn't take her grandfather's medal. "If you need a reminder that you are fighting to come home, look at this. You have a future, Ada. You are not meant to go and die in the arena. You have a gift. Remember that."

What gift could she possibly have? She wasn't exactly the toughest Tribute out there. She knew that that would be certain. Nor would she be the most appealing. Sure, she had skills in hammers, but would that really help if she ever had to face a Career? What did she have that the others didn't?

That was when she realized what her grandfather was talking about.

Her intelligence.

"_Duh, what else did you think, smart one_?" asked the voice in her head.

She pushed the voice aside as a Peacekeeper opened the door and said it that her family's time was up. Quickly she wrapped her arms as far and as wide as she could around her parents and grandfather. Holding them tightly to her. Taking in their warmth and comfort. Remembering how it felt, and locking it away in a box in her mind. Making sure it would never be able to leave her.

"We love you sweetheart," they said to her.

"I love you too," she said.

The Peacekeeper started walking towards them. She felt her parents let go, and then her grandfather as well. Tears started to stream down from her eyes as she watched them leave the room and the door closed behind them, locking in place. Feeling as though she would burst into tears at any moment, she quickly walked over to the couch and sat down. To distract her mind until her next visit, she ran her fingers through the soft velvet of the couch. Trying to count how many strands could possibly exist in a square inch of the stuff. Every time she almost reached a decent number though, her mind would start wandering to her family or to Isaac-

_Isaac_..., she thought. _Oh, why did this have to happen_?

Even despite the encouraging words from her family, Ada still had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that said she wasn't going to come out. At least, not alive anyway. She was going to try and get out alive. Of course she wasn't going to willingly give herself over to death. Still, the fear of dying was still present. The feeling that gnawed on your stomach was always there. Haunting the back of your mind, teasing and torturing you until the end.

Ada hated it because she wanted to live. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to be killed in some Game created to satisfy the bloodthirsty appetites of an audience that knew nothing about what the Districts outside their city went through. Nor did she want to die a brutal death. Not tortured and maimed to the satisfaction of someone who lusted for blood to be shed on the ground. Not to die just as another face that would be eventually forgotten, with only the victor of the Games to be remembered.

She didn't want to die, and not be able to say and do everything she wanted to say and do.

The door opened once more, and Ada once again found herself pushing her thoughts aside as Isaac walked in. There was a sad expression on his face as he walked over to her. She was about to stand up so that they could stand and talk, but he sat down before she could. Many thoughts started to whir around in her mind. Isaac sitting next to her wasn't helping her any, because most of those thoughts were about him. And he wasn't helping by placing his hand on top of hers in an attempt to comfort her. He made no attempt to try and say everything would be alright. Both of them were smart and knew that not everything would be alright. How can you say that to a person in this situation? Especially when you knew for certain that it wasn't true?

He must have been thinking along the same lines as she had, because he said, in a tone that made him sound like he had a frog in his throat, "I wish I could say everything would be alright. I honestly wish I could." His eyes, which had been focusing on her face, looked away. Facing the direction of the wall opposite of them. "I don't know how I can though."

Ada sighed sadly. "You can't. I already know that things are not going to be alright. No matter what, even if I do win, I'll be stuck with the fact that twenty-three other kids had to die so I could."

Isaac turned away from the wall and looked her in the eyes. His gray eyes trained on her green-blue ones. There was a spark to them that Ada had seen before. It usually came whenever he was about to say something huge or important. She leaned in closer to him, so that she would not miss a single word. He leaned in closer as well, likely so that he was certain she would capture every word. Their heads were so close together that she could actually feel his breath coming out whenever he said a syllable that required a puff of air to escape. "It's going to be difficult, there is no denying that. But you have to come back, Ada. You need to use everything you have to get back here. You're smart, Ada. Probably one of the smartest people I ever met."

"Yeah, too bad I'm not the most outgoing person out there," Ada sighed, turning her head away. Being able to fight in the Games was important, but so was being able to get Sponsors. Last year's winner of the Hunger Games mainly won because a Sponsor had sent him a very special kit with materials in it to help him create very realistic camouflage. Which made it easier for him to avoid the competition. Otherwise he wouldn't have made it to the point where he could defeat the last of the weakened Tributes.

She felt his hand clench tightly around hers. His other cupped her beneath her chin. Gently he lifted her chin up, so that they were facing each other, so they were looking one another in the eyes. The sight of those eyes made Ada's tears start to spill from her cheek. Before she could go to wipe them away though, she feel Isaac's fingers brushing across her cheeks, wiping them all away. The feel of his skin, slightly calloused from all the work in assembling computers at school and at home, was welcome. And sent tingling sensations down her spine. Sharp, strong, tinglings that made their way all the way down to her feet. Against her will, her body shivered. But she didn't care. This was what she had wanted. To be this close to him. Have him hold her, and unless she was mistaken, but didn't people who truly loved one another do this whenever they tried to comfort them?

Love. She loved Isaac. Not a like like, and definitely not a hormone. She honestly cared for him. Whenever he laughed, she wanted to be there laughing with him. To hold his hand like they were now, in both good times in bad. No matter what life threw at them. She wanted to live with him. Wake up every morning and see his face. Show him how much she cared for him. Heck, perhaps it was rushing things slightly, but she wanted to have a family with him! Have them and watch them grow up. Watch them have their own kids. And then grow old with him. Always finding beauty in each other, no matter how silver their hair got or how bad their vision may get or how much labor it took just to move. If she had her way, they would die together. And if there was a Heaven, be there with him. If not, then she wanted to become a part of the universe, and latch onto his molecules tightly. Together always, mingling, and providing life for other living things.

She knew that Isaac must have noticed her shiver, but he hadn't moved away from her. He knew that he she was enjoying this, this moment they were having. And the fact that he had not moved away showed that he was happy with it as well. His head moved forward, his lips getting closer and closer to her own. Joy flowed in her, and caused her to move her lips closer to his. Ada listened as he whispered to her in a voice that was barely audible, "You have to come back. You can do so much for this world. You are an amazing girl Ada, and I want you to be here, so I can witness that every day of my life. That's why you have to try, Ada." Their lips were only a small fraction of an inch apart, so close they could practically almost feel them...

That was when he said the words, "I love you, Ada."

Suddenly door suddenly swung open though, and the Peacekeeper barked that it was time for Isaac to go. Isaac and Ada turned away from one another and they each gave the Peacekeeper a glare. She was unaffected by them though. Instead, she said, "I said it's time for you to scram, kid. There are other people who want to see her."

That surprised Ada, but she was still angry. Couldn't whoever wanted to see her wait five minutes? Then again, five minutes was only as long as a person had to say goodbye to a loved one. Still. The time either must have flew by pretty fast or the Peacekeeper was cutting the times short on purpose. She did look like the kind of woman who would...judging on the frown that appeared to be plastered to her face.

Suddenly, Isaac's face was in front of hers. Before she could respond or say anything, his lips met hers It was quick, much too quick for Ada's liking. Before she could even kiss him back though, the Peacekeeper roughly pulled him away. As he was pushed out the door, she watched him crane his neck and shout, "I had to do that once!"

"Isaac!" she cried, running towards the door.

"I love you Ada!"

"Isaac! I-"

The door slamming shut in front of her face cut her off. Before she could stop herself, she burst into even more tears. And all the sobs she had been trying to keep pent up starting rolling out of her as if she had dropped a bag of marbles on the floor. She stood in front of the door, her hand clawing at it. Her sobs were followed by wails. Then when her wails died, she felt her voice croak out the last words she was going to say to him. "-love you." Burying her face in her hands, she croaked again, "I love you, Isaac."

About a minute later, she still stood in front of the door. It was a good thing he opened out towards the hallway, otherwise it would have opened up and swung directly in her forehead. She didn't bother looking up at whoever it was that was standing in the doorway. However, she did hear his voice, "Ada, what are you doing on the floor?"

She sniffled, and allowed her fingers to spread apart just a crack. Allowing her to see the person who was talking to her.

Standing in the doorway was her brother. His short blond hair was all smoothed down, aside for the cowlicks that made his hair flow in different directions. Especially the one around the crown of his head, which made it appear spiky looking. With his glasses with wide lenses that made him look like an owl, you could imagine him being one of those people who spent their time fixing computers. Which was basically what he did. He was twenty years old now, and he had his own house just about seven blocks away from Ada's house. Like most people in the District, he worked in the big computer and technology manufacturing plants that contained a little over eighty percent of District Three's population with jobs. (It was actually estimated to be about eighty point twelve percent.) Ever since he had gotten his own home, Ada didn't get to see her brother often. Making money to pay for the house was an important priority. Plus, he was trying to get enough money to pay for a wedding flash-drive. In District Three, it was a traditional custom for people who wanted to marry to buy a marriage flash-drive and use it to propose to their loved ones. The flash-drive was a symbol of storage, of holding memories. Just like what happened in a marriage. Plenty of memories to have and hold, to be saved on a flash-drive to be kept forever. After they proposed with a marriage flash-drive, they would go and fill out the papers at the Justice Building. There was this one girl that he had laid his eyes on for a little over a year now and had been dating, but he hadn't been able to afford to buy the flash-drive. Again, she understood why. She still wished that he would pay attention to her a little more. And come by and visit more often, and not just once every three months, especially because compared to some people in Three, he lived pretty close.

Now though, she wasn't too happy with him. It wasn't said, but she knew that that Peacekeeper kicked Isaac out because her brother wanted to visit her. To show that she was, she didn't say a word to him. Not even as he gently helped her up from the floor and led her over to the couch. The door shut and clicked behind them.

Still refusing to look at her brother, Ada kept her eye focused on the carpeted floor. Pretending to take an interest in the material it was made in. However, that didn't last long. For some reason, her brother was always pick up on the fact that she was angry or upset. And as usual, he asked, "What's wrong, Ada?" She went to open her mouth and say something, but he spoke first. "Besides the fact that you got reaped for the Games?"

She groaned, and rested her forehead in her hands. "Nothing."

He didn't believe it for a moment. "Come on Ada, talk to me. Talk to Bech. What's wrong?"

She groaned again. "What's wrong, Bech? What's wrong is that my friend and lifelong crush came out to me and admitted that he loved me-"

"Who, Isaac?" he interrupted.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. It's not like I have any other friends," she said frankly.

From the expression on his face Ada could tell that Bech was mentally slapping himself for being so stupid and forgetting. She watched him open his mouth to say something, but she quickly started speaking. Knowing that she had to get this out. "He and I were talking, sitting on the couch. Next thing we knew, we were getting closer to each other. Our lips almost met. Then he told me that he loved me. And he and I were about to kiss-"

"He told you that he loved you? I thought the two of you hadn't even started going out?"

She sighed. "We didn't. But does it matter? We've known each other for years. And I've liked him since I can remember. He probably liked me for just as long, or maybe he just started. I don't know. Either way, the point is he still said he loved me-"

"Probably wanted to say it because he knew you were going to the Games." The look she gave him, the glare whenever someone interrupted her, was fixated on her face. "Right, sorry. Continue."

She sighed again, and her hand went up to her eyes to brush away a few tiny little drops that still clung to her eyelashes. After sniffling she wiped her hand across her nose. "So then he said he loved me. Then we were about to kiss, then that Peacekeeper barged in and told us he had to go because you were here to see me. And...well...to make a long story short, he kissed me on the lips and then the Peacekeeper kicked him out of the room before I even had a chance to kiss him back or say I love you." Ada could feel her voice starting to become throaty again. More tears were starting to come. She felt ridiculous. Sure, she wasn't a rugged girl, but still. She felt like she had shed more tears this day than more tears than she had ever shed in about half a year. "And now I can never say that," she said. "I can never say that. Not unless I win. What are the chances of that?"

"Better than others, actually. Don't forget, you're smart Ada. It's not just the brawny people who make in the finals. Many finalists, and even many Victors, had won because of their intelligence. Mind over matter. Brain over brawn. Mentality over brutality. And often times, brain wins."

"Not all the time," she pointed out. "The two kids from District Three last year didn't even make it past the Bloodbath. The boy was killed within forty-five seconds because the girl from District One had stabbed him from behind with a spear. The girl had tried hiding in the cornucopia, but the boy from District Two had found her and used a hammer to crush her skull."

"There you go, there's another thing on your side," her brother pointed out. "You have a good memory. At least when it comes to what you have watched on the Hunger Games."

"Only because I watched them a few times! I had to do it because I needed to study the right times to use the right strokes for a hammer."

"But those few times were enough for you to remember that kind of stuff! That will help you, Ada! Use what you remember from past Hunger Games you recall watching to help you in the arena! Learn from the mistakes of others, you can't make them all yourself.

"The fact you're also good in hammers is going to help you out too. Not a lot of the other Tributes are like that. Some of them are going in with skills like you do!"

"I won't be as good as a Career."

"Doesn't matter, a small chance (even though right now you're showing you have a decent chance) is better than none, Ada."

"There's going to be a number of other factors against me. I'm not confident, and it's not easy for me to talk to people. I bet I'll do horrible on the Interview portions."

"Well then you'll have to work on them, Ada. That's what it all comes down to. How hard are you willing to work in order to succeed? Are you willing to work hard in order to survive?"

If asked this question earlier, Ada probably wouldn't have had a response. But after Isaac's visit, she now did. "Yes, I am."

Bech nodded approvingly. "That's good. Because I want you back too. So doesn't everyone else you love. We want you to come back here, alive. Not in a box to be buried. _Al__ive_." He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I may not always been around to say it, but I love you very much, Ada. I know you're my sister, but as far as I'm concerned, you're the greatest sister in the world."

"Are you just saying that in hopes that I will forgive you for practically ignoring me for a long time?"

"No, it's the truth. Now that you mention it though, is it?"Bech hugged her. "I never meant to ignore you, Ada. I loved you, and now I wish I could have visited the times I could have but didn't. Clika is important to me, but I should have paid more attention to you than what I did."

She chuckled. "At least you're making up for it." Yeah, she was still a little mad that it was because of him Isaac had to leave sooner. But she was glad that she got to share these last few moments with her brother. It felt good to hear and see him again. Especially as they laughed and joked around. Holding each other close, not letting go. A brother and sister enjoying the last few moments before one of them would be ripped away from the other's life, possibly forever.

A few minutes later the door opened, and the Peacekeeper told Bech it was time to go. Getting up from the couch, the two of them stood there a second. Then quickly threw their arms around each other in one last embrace. Possibly the last one as brother and sister. "Show them you're more than just a computer freak, Ada," he whispered.

"I will."

The Peacekeeper was about to come over, and by the looks of her face, she was getting sick and tired of having to break people away from Ada. Before she could reach them though, they let each other go. And willingly, Bech allowed himself to be escorted. "I love you, Ada!" he called over his shoulder.

"I love you too," she called, and this time, the door didn't slam shut until after she had gotten it out.

A couple of minutes passed once more, and then it opened. The two women Peacekeepers stood in the hallway, and the one entered and grabbed Ada by the arm. "Time for you to go to the Capitol, girl," she said.

As the two Peacekeepers escorted her down the hall and towards the entrance/exit of the Justice Building, Ada breathed in deeply. She could feel the tears coming to her eyes once more, but this time they did not shed. Instead, she blinked them away. It was time she focused on what was in store. There was no doubt about it, her future was uncertain. No telling what was going to happen. What misfortunes were coming her way. But she was certain of one thing, she had family and friends supporting her. Her grandfather's medal, which she clenched tightly in her hand, was reminding her of that.

. . . . .

Right after Mayor Base had finished reading the Treaty of Treason, the Anthem played the Reapings out. For a few moments, as a couple of Peacekeepers led Ada Brennan off the stage, he stood. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get his legs to work. It was almost as if they were glued to the wooden floor of the stage. His eyes looked out towards the crowd, which was vast and spread far out, whole blocks filled with people. In the mass, he tried to pick out his family, but he couldn't see them. They had melted into the crowd. Unable to be pinpointed out.

"Come on kid," a voice said in an even tone. The voice belonged to a male Peacekeeper who looked like he was in his mid-forties. While he walked to the side of Zeke's right shoulder, another Peacekeeper who kept his voice quiet walked to the other. They gripped him tightly, and Zeke had to bite back the grip they held him. He knew that they probably weren't even holding him that tightly. Not as tightly as they possibly could have anyway. Still. Zeke's shoulders were nothing but flesh and bone. Hardly any muscle on them.

A horrified expression pasted itself on his face as he was led off the stage. Flashbacks to past Hunger Games he had seen televised came to him. Images of children throwing knives and spears at each other, of swords chopping off limbs, of blood being spilled on the ground; of people struggling to find food, starving, dying of dehydration, blood-loss, various injuries. A never-ending stream of them flashed in his mind. He hadn't taken tesserae. Yet somehow, his slips had still managed to be enough to be chosen. Now he was going to forced to kill and probably be killed. For what? If he won, he lived. Would it be worth it? Any of it at all, would it be worth it? He had heard stories about both of District Three's past Victors. Stories of the two of them suffering from nightmares. Of how they both had to take special pills to treat depression at times. Fara Gottin was even said to visit a psychiatrist in the Capitol from time-to-time.

He pulled himself from his thoughts as the Peacekeepers led him into the Justice Building and down a hall. They stopped at a door along the side, and opened it. The moment he stepped inside, the door closed and locked behind him. Looking around the room, he wondered if there was any possible way he could escape the room. Immediately he saw that windows weren't an option, for there weren't any. The door was locked, and even if he managed to break it, the Peacekeepers would just drag him into a different room. If he could, he'd try and put a hole in the ceiling and escape that way. But he knew that wasn't going to happen.

"Looks like I'm stuck," he said to himself.

He sat down on the couch. Not even a moment later, the door opened and his mother and father came in. His mother was sobbing her eyes out, and she was crying so hard that she was actually having trouble breathing. She used the rim of her shirt to dab at her eyes so that she could try and dry them, but the fabric became soaked in seconds. Not knowing what else to do, Zeke simply wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly towards him. Of course, she did the same in return. Squeezing him so hard that he actually felt like he was going to be squeezed to death. Were those black spots supposed to be dancing in his vision?

"Mom...can't...breathe!" he exclaimed.

She lessened her hold on him and started crying again. "My boy, my baby boy." Another sob racked her chest. "Why? Everything we ever did we tried to keep you out of this mess. Yet you ended up in it. How?" She glared at the door, but they all knew that she was actually glaring at the Peacekeepers who were standing guard behind it. "What right have they to force children from their home to take to their blasted city? What gives them the right to make children fight to death for their enjoyment? What gives them the right to take a child away from their parent like this?"

Neither Zeke or his father said anything. They had absolutely no answer for her. There was none. No good and justifiable reason on the face of the earth that said it was okay for the Capitol to kill children. The Capitol always went on about how much the Districts owed them for survival and how it was wrong for them to betray the ones who had nurtured them. Personally, from what he had read, Zeke believed that both sides were in the wrong. It still didn't give the Capitol the right to punish the Districts by only doing it to people who were completely innocent in the matter.

"Promise me you will try hard to come back," his mother said.

Of course he would try hard to come back. Considering the alternative was death, he really didn't see why he wouldn't. Still, he knew his chances weren't likely. Many of the other Tributes would have experience in things he could only have dreamed of. Plus, many of them were more than likely going to be healthier than he was. He hoped he wouldn't, but honestly, he had a feeling he might die early. Deciding that this was not what his mother probably wanted to hear, he instead answered, "I promise, Mom. I will try with everything I have to come back."

His mother gently held both sides of his face in her hands. The hands that could be so angry and always itching to do something violent were now gentle and caring. Hands that a mother could only have. She may not have been the best mother out there, but Zeke knew she was still his mother. She had her flaws just like everyone else. But if you looked deep enough, you could see the good there. He only hoped that one day, she would realize just how far off the edge she had thrown herself. In time enough to catch hold of the rope that was being sent down for her to catch and hold on so she could be pulled back on. Before it was too late. "I love you, Zeke."

"I love you too."

He felt her hands leave his face, and watched as she went to the door and knocked on it. It opened, and he watched as she left. He knew what she was going to be doing now. She would be sobbing her eyes out in the hallway. Waiting for his father to come and join her. While he was sad his mother wouldn't stay for the whole five minutes, he knew it was best that she hadn't. The longer she stayed, the more likely she'd refuse to let him go. The more likely she'd probably punch a Peacekeeper if they tried to take him. And the more likely she would get in serious trouble. For that, he was willing to forgive her.

Of course, the hell she had put him through for a little over six months was going to be a little harder to forgive.

Speaking of forgiving, there was one other person who he was going to have trouble forgiving as well. He took a look at this person, who was sitting beside him on the couch. His father sat there, staring at the wall. Doing his best to hold the tears back, but not doing a good job. From the breaths he took, one could tell he was trying to keep sobs from racking his body. Zeke felt sorrow wash through him. While he wished with all his might he could forgive his Dad for not standing up to his mother, he wasn't sure if he could. Sighing, he looked in the same direction his father did. Pretending to take an interest in the whiteness of it. They remained like that for almost a whole minute. Both of them waiting for the other to say something.

Finally, knowing that the time for his father must be running short, Zeke said to him, "Dad..."

"Yeah?" his father asked, not taking his eyes off the wall.

Zeke sighed. "How come you don't stand up for yourself?"

His father shrugged. "I guess that's just the way I am," he said sadly. "It's the way I've always handled things. Just let people walk over me. I can't stand conflict, and I don't want to hurt anybody. Not even the ones who hurt me." His eyes went away from the wall and at the wedding ban he wore on his finger. "Because I know that even though they hurt me, they must be hurting even more, otherwise they wouldn't be trying to hurt anyone in the first place."

"I understand that. I'm the same way, admittedly. But when do you draw the line and say that enough is enough?" In an attempt to avoid his father's eyes, Zeke set his gaze on the floor. "What's it going to take for someone to say that somebody is going too far? That people can not not just tread on people and expect those people they tread on to allow it?"

His father shrugged. "I guess it must be different for everyone." His father's voice was small and soft as he said it.

Looking up from the floor, Zeke set his eyes on his father. "Dad, you have to stand up to Mom. She can not continue acting the way she does. Not only is she hurting others, but she is hurting herself. And she's going to keep doing that until somebody stands up to her."

"It's not that easy-"

Zeke cut him off though, his voice solidified, but he managed to keep it even and calm. "No, maybe it's not easy. But that doesn't mean that it shouldn't be done. I won't be around anymore if I die. Rori may have moved out, but she still needs her family. If I don't get out of here, you're the only one she'll have left who can stand up for her. You have to stand up to Mom. Do it for Rori, she deserves that much. The things that Mom says about her are not right. She has her right to an opposite opinion as Rori, but to treat Rori like that is not right." He sighed. "And it's not right for Mom to treat you that way, either. She threw a vase at you this morning! What if she threw something even more dangerous and ended up hurting you? What then?" He could feel his voice choke up a bit. "Dad, please. Whether you're doing it for me or Rori or even yourself, whatever it takes, do it."

A sigh escaped his father. "I'll try."

That wasn't good enough for Zeke. "No, don't try. Do."

His father looked at Zeke with an expression of uncertainty. But as soon as the expression had come, it vanished. Replaced by a determined, certain one. "Alright. I will. I can not promise when, but I will promise this. When the time is right, I will stand up to her."

Knowing that that was the best that he was probably going to be getting from his father, Zeke just nodded. "Fine."

His father threw his arms around him and hugged him tightly. Zeke felt that constricting feeling again, but he allowed it. Throwing his arms around his father and doing the same. "I'm proud of you son," his father said. "You are both smart and wise. Be sure to use those to your advantage."

"I will."

The door opened, and a Peacekeeper told them that it was time for Zeke's father to leave. Before letting go though, Zeke's father said to Zeke, "I love you, son."

"I love you too, Dad."

His father let go, and then got up from the couch."May the odds _always _be in your favor." With that, he made his way out of the room. Once he was out, the Peacekeeper shut the door and locked it.

About a minute later, the door opened once more. Zeke was expecting it to be either Keith or Manny, but instead, he found that it was Rori who had entered. Like their mother, Rori was slightly round. She had brown hair and brown eyes. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail. She wore a nice black dress that came down just above the ankle. There was a sad expression on her face though, and from the looks of her eyes, which were all red and puffy, she must have been crying.

He smiled to her in welcoming, and patted the empty space of the couch next to him. "You can sit down if you want."

Sniffling, Rori wiped away a tear that had started to roll down her eyes. Sitting down next to him, she sighed. "I really hate crying," she said.

Zeke nodded. "I think everyone does."

Rori sniffled again. "You know, I always had a feeling that you would be reaped one of these days."

Raising an eyebrow, Zeke asked, "Why would you have a feeling like that?"

She shrugged. "It's that feeling you always get whenever something bad is about to happen."

A smile played on Zeke's lips. "You always think something bad is going to happen."

She laughed, but it wasn't happy laugh. It was that kind of laugh that you would give if something was true and it amused you. "Yeah, I have become a bit of a pessimist lately." She sighed. "It sucks. Especially because I never used to be. When I was younger, I used to be the most positive girl you could imagine" She reached over to one of his hands and held onto it tightly. "I guess I do have a reason why I'm not though. Life hasn't been treating me very well lately." Her eyes looked down at the floor. A depressed sigh escaped her. "Neither has a person in my life." Even though she didn't say who the person was, Zeke knew who she was talking about. Over the past few years, their mother and Rori and had not been on good terms. Various things mostly. The fact that Rori and his mother didn't always see eye-to-eye. The fact that Rori was more independent than most girls her age ever were, giving off this impression to their mother that she was growing up too fast. The fact that they had different ways in doing things, and their mother insisted that her way was the best way. But there was one thing, one issue between Rori and their mother, that had set them apart ever since Rori was fifteen years old and came out and admitted it...

Rori was a lesbian.

The moment that she had admitted that to their parents was the thing that would start the overall bitter disagreements and arguments between their mother and her. Even though marriage was a freedom that belonged to everyone, there were still people who disagreed with the GLBT community, the ones who did so respectfully and were not going to attack people if they did considered themselves that. However, just like with racism and sexism, homophobia had not died. It still existed. It was still an issue that continued to break society up and ripped it to shreds. And their mother was a homophobe, no question about it. Whenever they got into arguments (the majority of which their mother started) their mother would attack Rori with bitterness. Calling her a disgusting lesbian pig, gay bitch, homosexual prick, and a variety of names that would not even be appropriate to mention. The moment she turned eighteen last year, Rori left the house. She went and got a job at one of the warehouses that produced wires for computers and other electronics, and rented an apartment with a girl she meet the warehouse. Turns out this same girl was also a lesbian. Though they tried to keep their relationship as only a friendship, eventually the two women decided that there could be something between them. They'd been dating ever since. (When their mother found out she threw more than just a fit.) If Zeke recalled correctly, two weeks from now would mark their one year anniversary.

This whole situation was rough and slightly awkward for Zeke. Despite the fact that he loved his sister, he wasn't sure he agreed with her decisions. Nor was he sure if he disapproved. His mother was homophobic. His father wasn't, but he respectfully disagreed with Rori's decisions. It became an inward struggle that Zeke had to struggle with every day. The question was, what did he believe? Did he believe in the things that had been taught to him? Even if it was possibly wrong? Or do you listen to what the evidence says? Even if it went against what you were taught? And even if that could be wrong, too?

Even after four years, he still didn't know. People on both sides of the spectrum always told him to follow his heart and there he would find the right answer. But what if your heart was divided? Where do you go from there? What do you choose?

There was only one thing he was certain of. That no matter what decision he made, he still loved his sister. Nothing would ever change that. She was one of the most amazing people in his life. She stood by him when people made fun of him She listened as he told her about all the hell he went through at home. She even allowed him to come and stay at her apartment the one night when his mother really went over the deep end. During that visit, he had met her girlfriend, whose name was Tecca. Tecca was actually very nice and kind. Understanding too. She accepted the fact that he wasn't sure of his views respectfully, and didn't care.

He was pulled from his thoughts as his sister hugged him closely. "I'm going to miss you."

Hugging her as well, he said, "I'm going to miss you too. Will you watch and support me the whole way?"

She nodded. "All the way through it. No matter what. Every time new coverage is up, I will be there watching it. Rooting for you the whole time. Hoping that you will come back." She paused for a moment, and the look on her face showed she debated on whether she should say something or not. Finally she said, "I'll be honest, I doubt that you will make it back." She must have seen the hurt in his eyes, but she quickly added, "But then again, I'm so much of a pessimist, of course I'm going to think that. Just go out there and give it everything you have. You're smart. And you know what they say? Brain triumphs over brawn." As an afterthought she added, "Most of the time."

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Thanks for the support, Rori. I appreciate it."

"Anytime."

The Peacekeeper opened the door and told them it was time for Rori to leave. Rori got up from the couch and quickly hugged Zeke one last time. "Try and make it back, Zeke. I want to see you at my wedding."

"Wedding?"

She nodded, and a happy smile appeared. "Tecca proposed to me, and I said yes."

Zeke wasn't sure what to say. Again, all the haunting thoughts came back to him. Thankfully, the Peacekeeper told them again that she had to leave. So Rori left before he could come up with anything.

The relief of not having to say anything didn't last long though, the guilt came back pretty quick. Again, he felt weak because he wasn't sure what to believe. How long were these thoughts going to torture him?

The door opened again, and Keith came in. Zeke smiled in greeting, but that smile was also relieved. Good, he needed something to occupy his mind. Usually he got exhausted when having to debate whether he agreed or disagreed on the issue he liked to call "The Issue." Realizing that Zeke was the only one of his few friends he came, he asked, "Where's Manny?"

Keith rolled his eyes. "His brother won't let him come."

Zeke groaned. "I don't know why Arroyo hates me. Seriously. What did I do that made him think I'm not good enough to be Manny's friend?"

Keith shrugged. "Haters are going to hate. Simple as that."

Sighing, Zeke nodded. "I guess."

Taking a seat next to Zeke, Keith asked, "So, do you have a plan for when you go to the arena?"

"Right now, the only thing I know I will do is use my intellect to get myself out. Of course, I know that won't last long. I'm going to need to come up with something else."

"Might want to decide before you get there. It may not seem far, but soon you will be heading to that arena."

Sighing, Zeke said, "Trust me, it feels pretty close."

"I hope you make it back," Keith said, "I'm going to miss all the deep conversations that we have."

Zeke smiled. In the years he had known Keith, the two of them had been able to talk about all sorts of different things. Things that went down pretty deep. Whether there was such thing as a god, or whether it was some force thing. (They both agreed that it was more than likely a god of some sort. Just who that god was, perhaps it was the God everyone talked about, maybe it wasn't.) Whether a man had the right to take another man's life in specific situations or not. (They had varying views on that.) Whether abortion was actually killing kids or not. (They both agreed it was, but Zeke did believe there were probably cases where it was okay.) They even talked about things such as homosexuality (which Keith agreed with, despite the fact he wasn't one.) Unlike Zeke though, who was uncertain, Keith believed it was okay. Whenever they talked, Keith spoke with certainty for what he believed. You could tell he would be able to do great things with his voice, if Panem ever allowed him to use it. Zeke just wished he had that kind of certainty whenever he spoke about what believed. "I am too, Keith. I am too."

For the rest of the time they spent, they talked about things they did. The things they said. The things they can recall one another doing that was either really embarrassing or hilarious. Talking about what they would miss. When the Peacekeeper opened the door and told them it was time for Keith to leave and time for Zeke to head to the train, they both wished that they could have extra time. Knowing better than to argue with a Peacekeeper though, Keith and Zeke shook hands, and then decided they were being foolish and hugged each other. "Win the Games Zeke, and come home. I want to be able to talk and debate with you again."

"I'll give it all I have. Be sure to tell Manny that I'll miss him."

"Count on it."

After Keith left, the Peacekeepers led Zeke out of the room and down the hall. When they arrived at the entrance, they were joined by the Peacekeepers that were escorting Ada. Zeke looked at Ada, and she appeared she was still getting over tears that had been shed earlier. Looking at her, Zeke couldn't help but feel sorry for her, even though he knew he couldn't continue thinking like that. This girl was his enemy. Just like all the other kids. They were going to want to shed his blood so they could live.

Because the train station was a bit too far of a walk from the Justice Building, especially with the crowd that was waiting for them outside, a limo was brought in from the Capitol to take them there. The windows were left rolled down though, and both Zeke and Ada were forced to look out them though so that the cameras could get pictures of them.

When they finally reached the station, they were led to the train that the Capitol had sent to collect them. Just before climbing in, they stood in front of the entrance of the carts so the cameras could gobble up their images. All the attention made Zeke sick, but he tried to ignore it.

They then entered the train, and Zeke was starting to wonder which was worse. The cameras, or the fact that he was on a train that was going to be taking him to a place where people wanted to see him die. (It was probably the cameras. At least with death it was over and done with.)

After changing into a simple white shirt and a pair of jeans, Zeke exited the chamber that had been established for him for the duration of the train ride. He found the part of the cart that served as a small living area, and took a seat. The next compartment over he could tell was the place where the food was served. He could hear Pauletta Tang in there talking with the cooks about some guy she hated. A guy named Bacchus Plurius or something like that.

Running his hands through his already messed up hair, Zeke sighed. From what he had learned in school, District Three was located in the northeastern corner of place once known as Nevada. It was going to take them about eight to ten hours to get to the Capitol, as long as nothing happened along the way. With Pauletta Tang, who was probably the most miserable and bitter woman he had ever seen (she could wipe the floor with his mother in terms of misery) it was going to be a long train ride.

A couple of minutes later, Ada came out of the chamber that had been given to her. The bright yellow dress she was previously wearing had now been replaced by a simple violet top with a pair of jeans similar to the ones he had on except for the fact that they were designed for a girl. He raised his hand in greeting to her, but didn't meet her eye. She raised her hand in greeting as well, and just like him, didn't say anything. Clearly neither one of them were the most outgoing people out there.

For a few moments they stayed that way. Waiting for the other to speak, to say anything to break the tension. Nothing came up though. Zeke kept his eyes on the floor, and Ada took a fascination with the ceiling.

Just when he couldn't stand it anymore and was about to speak, Ada reached her hand out across the couch. "Hello. I'm Ada."

He took her hand and shook it. The grin still on his face, he said, "My name is Zeke."

"How are you doing?"

Kind of a bizarre question to ask, but he went along with it. "I'm nervous. Not going to lie." He set his gaze on the floor, "I'm sure you could probably tell from how sweaty my palm was when I shook your hand. At the end of the Reaping I mean."

"Mine was pretty sweaty too, so no big deal," she said.

She flashed him a grin, and a surge of comfort swept through him. Perhaps things weren't going to be as awkward between them as he originally thought. "How about you?" he asked.

"I've had better days," she said in a half-joking, half-serious tone. "Going to the Hunger Games certainly wasn't something I expected." As an afterthought, she added, "Or wanted."

"Yeah, I would definitely say that going to the Games wasn't a highlight on both of our schedules."

"I hear the food is good," she said. "Perhaps not always healthy, but good, nonetheless."

Zeke felt his grin widen. "That's what one Tribute last year said."

"So, Zeke, I was thinking. We're both from the same District. And I'm assuming you're pretty smart, right?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I got one of the highest grades in my class. Though I think Data Verinx might be higher in grade point average than me." Data was an insanely smart girl in his year of school. She was so smart that she already had Academies in District Three sending her letters to consider them as her next step in education.

"Cool. So I was wondering, would you like to be an alliance with me?"

Zeke shrugged, but secretly he was leaping with joy. _He was actually making an alliance with somebody_! _He wasn't even at the Capitol yet and already he was further in progress than most of the Tributes_. "Why not? I'm pretty sure with my brain, we can last a lot longer than most of the other Tributes."

"Of course, we're going to need more than brain," Ada pointed out. "Guess it's a good thing I'm excellent with hammers." She leaned in close to his ear and whispered, "I secretly trained with them and learned how to use them effectively in combat." His eyes widened in shock. Training before the Games was illegal. Nobody really took notice of it, but still. Ada didn't give him time to point this out though. Instead she immediately asked, "Are you good in any weapons?"

"Nothing like swords or anything like that," Zeke said. "I can probably make an excellent weapon using wires and such if I got the chance. Other than that, no, not really."

"You're better off than some already," she said optimistically. "Many Tributes are going in with next to nothing in terms of skills. So we'll wait and see what happens."

The door opened, and Pauletta Tang came into the room. Following behind her were Alexander Phao (Alex for short) and Fara Gottin. Alex was a man in his early thirties. Most of his hair was gone, and he wore glasses that made his eyes look like an owl. Lanky and skinny, one could never imagine him ever winning the Hunger Games. He looked like a man who belonged in a classroom teaching students or something. Not a killer. So didn't Fara, with her brown hair knotted in a braided ponytail that came down below her shoulder-blades. There was a far-off look in her eyes. As if she wasn't there. There physically, but not mentally. Her mind was elsewhere. If what Zeke had heard was true, no doubt she was probably thinking back to the time she killed all of those kids using the dynamite and the cliff edge. At the light touch that Alex gave her though, she snapped back to reality. A friendly smile appeared on her face. "Hello there," she said. "As I'm sure you know, I'm Fara, and this is Alex. We'll be your Men-" Suddenly the dazed look returned in her eyes, and her hands suddenly found the small thread hanging loose from her blue dress interesting, for they started fiddling with that."

Pauletta groaned in disbelief. "You got to be kidding me." Glaring at Alex, she said, "Hasn't she been seeing somebody about this in the Capitol?"

Alex led Fara over to one of the chairs. He helped her sit down, whispered something reassuring in her ear, and then turned and faced Pauletta. "She has, ever since the year after she won her Games. There are days when she doesn't get like this at all. Then there are days like today, where it happens all the time." Looking at Fara, Zeke couldn't help but feel sorry. Fara won the sixteenth Hunger Games. So she'd been going to get psychological therapy for fourteen years, and she still suffered from this sort of thing. "The psychiatrists say she's going to be like this for the rest of her life. The explosions that she used to kill those kids during her Games also shattered her ability to focus. She can get better, but it will never completely go away. She's going to be like this forever."

"Forever?" Ada asked, in a tone that was sorry, but also concerned.

Alex nodded. "Yes. Don't worry though, it's not everyday she's like this. Last time this happened was like five days ago." He walked over and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll be here to help when I can." He looked at Zeke. "For both of you. As Mentors, it's my job, along with Fara's, to get one of you out of the arena alive."

"Yeah, and neither one of you have done a good job," Pauletta pointed out. "It's been fourteen years."

Alex glared at Pauletta. "Don't either one of you mind her," he said to them. "She's just a crab apple today. Usually she's mostly a little more pleasant." Looking at Pauletta, he said, "Emphasis on the 'little.'" Zeke laughed, and Ada did as well.

"Yeah, real funny," said Pauletta. "Let's turn on the television and get a look at the competition, shall we? Then after that, we can have dinner."

"Wasn't she eating in the Dining Compartment just five minutes ago?" Zeke asked.

"Yes," Alex said. "Yes, she was. If there's one thing you two ought to know, is that for the Capitol, enough is never enough."

"You say that as if it were a bad thing!" exclaimed Pauletta.

"Well, it kind of is."

Pauletta sniffed. "Whatever. What would you computer geeks know anyway?" She then grabbed a control panel from the TV and clicked an option on it. In a moody tone, she said, "Now then, let's watch the Reapings."

**AN: In other news, Ariel and I have been working on the profile pictures for the Tributes (mostly Ariel, but I offer insight when she needs it). We have Jett Tyson and Elina Celest done, and are currently working on Mason Ryker.  
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**If you guys want to make some fan art for this story, by all means, go ahead. Just alert me when you finish doing it, so I can have a look. I post all of the fan art in the community on my livejournal. Already Ariel and Jodiiee have sent me some awesome stuff in terms of art work for this fic. :)  
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**Blood Dreams currently has six chapters now. We also now have a fan forum established, so if you want to go and talk about the fic, feel free to go and do over there. All are welcome. And there's currently a poll going on over there to see who your favorite Tribute is. Come on guys, I need you to go and vote Dominic Parraldi. Yes, I know he's an arrogant perv, but that's only just what we know so far. Give him time. He'll grow on you. You just need to give him a chance. :)  
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	22. Chapter 21: D4 Goodbyes and Train Rides

**AN: Okay here we go, here's the next chapter. Sorry, I've been very busy. **

**So nobody got the Eleanor Roosevelt quote from the last chapter? That stinks. Oh well, I guess nobody will be getting some special looks this time around. Oh well. **

**The Reapings for Blood Dreams are almost finished! Soon we will be seeing some Capitol stuff. Let me tell you, you're in for a very exciting and interesting story. ;)  
**

Chapter Twenty-One

D4 Goodbyes and Train Rides

"_They're after me_! _After me!_ _All of them! All of _them!"

A chill ran down Kaye's spine as she recalled the scene of Keiro, kneeling on his hands and knees in the middle of his kitchen, sobbing and screaming in agony. She remembered as she tried to soothe him, running circles on his back, trying to calm him as if she were his older sister, when he was actually two years older.

Before his Games, Keiro had been strong and proud. Even slightly arrogant, though that never bothered Kaye. Everyone in the Career Academy in District Four could tell that if any one from their District could win a Hunger Games, it would be him. With his strong physique, his outer beauty (during his Games, Keiro had been labeled the sexiest of the Tributes), and his skills with various weapons, he had been a force to be reckoned with. Ever since his Games though, he had been reduced to a complete mess. Crying every morning when he woke up, screaming every night when he went to bed, shivering every time he went out in public. Not only that, but he had also gotten extremely jumpy. She recalled during one of her visits, she saw that he still slept with a trident next to his bed. 'Just in case they try to sneak into my room at night.' She had tried to gently reassure him that no Tributes were going to sneak in to kill him. That his precautions were unnecessary.

All of those reassurances did nothing to help though. 'You do not know what I see in my nightmares, Kaye. Nobody does. Everyone says that the Games are like a blood-filled drama that will keep you engrossed. While that may be true for the Capitol, it's not the same for the ones who are actually in it. People are in there dying! It's not a game. Once those lives are gone, that's it. There's no cut or wrap or anything like that. People don't get off the stage and go and have snacks to film the next scene. No. They're gone. Gone forever. Leaving behind people who loved them and the life they had led. And the Victors has to live with that for the rest of their lives. I have to live with that the rest of my life!'

Kaye had hoped with all her heart that she would never have to suffer through the same thing that Keiro had. Every night she would say a prayer, which showed how desperate she was, because Kaye did not consider herself religious. Sure, she and her family attended a morning service every other Sunday or so, and even put money in the offering when they did. And she believed that there was a God. However, that was as far as it went. The fact that she was willing to get on her knees every night and say an awkward prayer to a God who she barely even followed was enough to show how desperate she was to not have to go in the arena.

From the way she was looking at it now, either God hadn't heard her prayers, or He must not have cared what happened to her. No matter. If God wasn't going to work with her, Kaye didn't care. She'd have to fend for herself. No doubt she could handle that. Not only would she come out of the Games alive, but she would not be like Keiro. Broken and weak. No, she couldn't afford to have that happen to her. She had a family to care for, and Keiro needed her to be strong for him too.

No, there was definitely no doubt about it. She was going to win these Games. No matter the cost.

Her resolve strengthened, Kaye allowed herself to be led down from the stage by a male and female Peacekeeper. She had to grit her teeth and watch her step because of her bad foot. Following behind her were two female Peacekeepers who were escorting Mihailo Sullivan off of the stage. Looking at the twelve-year-old, Kaye couldn't help but feel sorry for him. If she had any say in the rules about the Hunger Games, she would have made it so twelve-year-olds wouldn't have to be entered for the Reaping. Sure every single child entered the Games didn't deserve this form of torture, but twelve-year-olds were just too innocent. What had they ever done to deserve this kind of horror? From the looks of him, Kaye judged he probably only just entered the Career Academy. What little skills he had learned during his time there would probably be able to help him. But she knew that he would not be able to last long. He'd be lucky if he made it to the final eight, if that.

She just hoped it wouldn't have to be her that would have to kill him.

The two Peacekeepers led her into the Justice Building and down a hallway that branched to the right. They passed by a number of doors which no doubt led to various rooms. When the Peacekeepers reached the door furthest down the hallway, they stopped. The door was unlocked, and they escorted her into the room. Without even saying a single word, the two Peacekeeper left, closing the door and locking it behind them.

Kaye stood in silence, waiting for the doors to open and her loved ones to come and see her. She wasn't sure what to expect from her family. Tears from her mother, most definitely. Her sisters would probably cry too. No matter how many times they got onto each other's nerves, Kaye knew they still deeply loved one another. Her brothers would definitely try not to cry, and while they might succeed, they would definitely be crying on the inside. Her father would be trying to put a brave face on things, but he would probably shed a couple of tears.

Taking a seat on the couch, Kaye waited. Her good foot tapped insistently and her leg bounced up and down, going a mile a minute. Breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, she tried to force her racking nerves to calm down. Panic wasn't something she could afford to do, she was a Career for goodness sake! Sure, she had never planned on volunteering in her lifetime, but that didn't matter. Careers didn't show any worry, fear, or sense of loss. The only emotions they were supposed to know were pain, anger, and fury. Any other emotion was a sign of weakness. Weaknesses were what got you killed. Sure it may have been inhumane, but at least a person survived.

Looking at it now though, Kaye wondered if survival was worth it. Seeing Keiro on the floor sobbing and screaming, would killing all those people be worth _that_? Would the pain and suffering be worth it?

Quickly she shook her head, clearing it of the things the voice said.. "No," she told herself. She couldn't afford to be thinking those kinds of things. Not when she was needed here by so many people.

The door opened, and the next thing Kaye knew was that she was being flooded by family members. Just as she expected, both of her sisters were crying. She felt Sage bury her face into her dress, while Bronwyn hugged her closely. The sight of seeing her sisters like that was enough to make Kaye want to cry as well, so much that she could actually feel her tears starting to build up in her eyes. Her determination not to show any weakness though was the thing that kept her from doing that. She refused to cry. Not even a single tear would roll down her cheek. She was Kaye Bennett, seventeen, one of the best Careers in her class. Nobody would see her cry. No one would see her tears. Not a single, solitary one.

Rubbing soothing circles along their backs, Kaye squeezed her eyelids shut to make sure no tears would start building up. Opening them again, she mentally nodded to herself in satisfaction. She could do this, she could go this entire five minute session without crying. "Hey," she said to her sisters. "Don't cry. We're Careers, remember? Whatever happened to us not shedding any tears?"

"I can't help it, Kaye!" cried Bronwyn forlornly, burying her face into her hands. More tears started to slowly trickle down through the cracks in her hands.

"Me neither!" sobbed Sage. "I want you to stay here. I don't want you to have to kill people! I want you to be here." She sniffled, a cough erupting from her throat because she was crying so much. The shoulder of Kaye's dress was completely soaked. It made Kaye's throat choke up a bit. Frustration swept through her, making her grit her teeth. Dang it, didn't her family realize that they're sobbing wasn't going to help her? No amount of crying was going to get her out of this mess. Tears did not move the Capitol. If it did, the Games would have been put to an end by now.

"We will still be able to do those things," she told them firmly but as gently as she could. "Once I win the Games, I'll come back here." She set her eyes on Bronwyn. "Wyn," she said, calling her sister by her nickname, "you have to be strong. I'm going to come back. Until I do though, you're the oldest. You have to watch out for them."

"I'm scared!" cried Bronwyn. "I've never had to be the oldest before!"

Kaye pulled Bronwyn's hands away from her face. "Look at me, Wyn," she said forcefully. Now she was really in danger of choking up. She'd probably start breaking down right now if she didn't get a hand on things. Despite the fact that she had moved her sister's hands, Bronwyn still wasn't looking at her. Instead, her eyes were looking down at her lap. "Dang it Wyn, look at me!" Kaye exclaimed, shaking her. Not roughly, but hard enough to get her sister to look her in the eye. A couple of strands of hair fell down over Kaye's eye, and she quickly pushed it behind her ear with one hand while still holding onto Bronwyn's hand. "It's going to be tough, Wyn," she said. "There is no denying it. Being the oldest child is one of the most difficult things anyone can ever go through. Your siblings are going to look to you. People have high expectations of you out of any of them. Mom and Dad are going to be there to help though, remember that. Remember, you don't have to do this alone." She gripped her sister's arm tighter. "Now, you have to promise me you will look out for them." She waved her hand at Sage, and then in the direction of her brothers and parents, who were standing near the couch. From the corner of her eye she could tell that it was taking all the strength they had not to shatter and break down into tears as well. Finn looked like he was going break any moment, with the way he was clutching their father's arm and the way he squeezed his eyes shut. Keeping her focus on Bronwyn though, she said again, "You have to promise me you will look after them, Wyn. You have to do it, there's nobody else who can. Do you promise?"

"I promise," whispered Bronwyn, her voice betraying the fact that she wasn't certain if she could.

Not pleased with this at all, Kaye gripped her sister's arm tighter and shook her a little more firmly than the last time. "Damn it Wyn!" she practically cried, surprising everyone in the room. Their eyes all widened in shock. Kaye herself was surprised. Normally she wasn't one for swearing. It had been deeply ingrained in their heads that swearing was a bad thing. Even as she said it, Kaye could tell that her mother wanted to exclaim and start scolding her for using such language. However, her mother held her tongue. Knowing that clearly in this situation, perhaps a scolding could be passed on. Returning her focus to Bronwyn, she growled fiercely through severely gritted teeth, "I want to hear you loud and clear, Wyn! I want you to be certain! Swear it! Swear it on everything you have. Swear it for God's sake!"

"Okay!" shouted Bronwyn, her voice choking up and tears rolling down her eyes in heavy streams. "I swear! I swear on everything that I hold dear to me! I swear I will care for everybody until you get back Kaye! I swear! I swear! I swear! I promise I will look out for them."

Kaye nodded in approval. "That's better," she said, her voice taking on a gentler and much less vicious tone. Then she pulled both of her sisters close to her in a tight embrace. "I'm going to miss you both." Looking from her sisters, her eyes rested on the rest of her family. "I'm going to miss all of you."

Her father walked over to her. Sage and Bronwyn scooted over so that he could have room. He hugged her close, and she held tightly to him. Another body joined them on the couch, and she saw that it was her mother. Tears rolled down from her eyes, and she was weeping slightly. Still, even with the tears she still managed to keep a strong look on her face.

Two more bodies joined them. Peeking up from her father's shoulder, Kaye saw that her brothers had joined the rest of the family on the couch. She was surprised that her brothers would be willing to get so close to her. Especially because the two of them often acted like getting caught up in family moments like hugging was one of their worse nightmares. She reached out and held Kai's hand in her one hand, and the other was holding Finn's. She captured the three youngest of her siblings in the commanding but gentle gaze of her sea-green eyes. "All of you have to be good to Bronwyn. This is going to be her first experience as the oldest sister. Cut her some slack. Respect her better than you did me. If you do, she'll treat you better than I did. Promise?"

"Promise," all three of them said together. From the tones they said it in, you could tell that they weren't just saying it to please her. They were very serious.

Her siblings got up from the couch, and stood by the door. There was only a minute before everyone in her family would have to leave. With her siblings away from the couch, it gave Kaye a chance to be closer to her mother and father. The three of them held each other as closely and tightly as they could. Her mother wept, the tears cascading down her cheeks now with every second that ticked by, and her breath became more thick with the sobs. "I am so proud to have you for a daughter, Kaye," she said to her gently. Her hand went to Kaye's face. "You are such an amazing girl. If you don't come back, life is going to be so empty."

"Your mother and I both know that you're going to give it everything you have to make it out," her father said. "You're amazingly beautiful and incredibly strong. Both in body and spirit. Don't let the other Careers write you off. Just because you weren't raised to be bloodthirsty like they were, doesn't mean that you aren't deadly."

"I won't, you can count on it."

The door opened, and the Peacekeeper told them it was time for her family to leave. Everyone got off of the couch and they gave Kaye one last hug goodbye. First was Finn, who buried his face and held her close. "Come back soon, Bronwyn can't scold me the way you can." Then he left the room. Following close behind him after giving Kaye his hug was Kai. He said no words, but his actions, the tight hug he wrapped her in and the way his fingers gripped her back, said enough.

Sage and Bronwyn hugged her together, pulling her close, between the two of them, nearly squeezing the air out of Kaye. But she accepted the hug anyway, and surprisingly, didn't want it to end. "We'll be rooting for you the whole way, Kaye," they said together. With the tears still streaming down their eyes, the two sisters then left the room. Leaving Kaye to hug her mother one last time. Then her father hugged her as well, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Kaye, I want you to remember something," he said.

"Yes, Dad?" she asked.

"No matter what I see you do on that television screen, no matter what happens, you will always be my little girl, my princess." As he said those words, his voice choked up. Tears, something that her father never let show, were actually building up in his eyes. "Remember that."

She nodded. "I will."

The Peacekeeper entered the room, and was about to drag her father away. He let her go though and started making his way out of the room. That was when Kaye remembered something. "Dad! Be sure to give my love to Jessy!" Jessy, her sweet labrador retriever. Who always secretly slept in her bed at night to keep her company. The one she played fetch with whenever she was out on the beach. The one who would always be wagging her tail, barking and wagging her tail a million times a minute whenever she came home from Career training.

"I will, Kaye."

And with that, the door closed behind him, locking. Leaving her alone for a few minutes. And in those minutes, Kaye found herself fighting a losing battle with holding back her tears. Burying her face into a pillow that rested against one of the arms of the couch, she bit into it and allowed a muffled cry of anguish to escape her.

She spent about four minutes by herself before the Peacekeeper would allow the next visitors to enter. Looking up from the pillow she had her face buried into, Kaye saw Seleca and Keiro enter. Getting up from the couch, she quickly wrapped her two best friends in a tight hug, refusing to let them go. Their arms wrapped around her just as tightly. The combination of Seleca's gentle and soothing arms with Keiro's sure and strong ones were enough to keep her from falling over the edge.

"Everything is going to be fine Kaye," Seleca said. "Everything is going to be fine. You're going to win these Games, just like Keiro did. When you do, you'll come back and everything will be fine." Though she was saying this to Kaye, everyone in the room could tell that it Seleca was mainly directing it to herself. Poor girl. It must not be easy having to say goodbye to your best friend as they were taken away to fight in the Hunger Games. With hardly any hope, of course she was going to try and keep reassuring not only Kaye, but herself.

It was Keiro who brought in the reality to the situation. His face, which had been brimming with emotions of fear and sadness, was now set with hard-set determination. "Look Kaye, you're going to get out of this arena alive. There is no question without it. You are. But the road to victory is going to hard. And the road after even I'll help you get through it, just like you're helping me."

Kaye sighed. "I had hoped I'd never be able to understand the pain you went through," she said to him. "Now it looks like I'm going to. That's really lovely. Just perfect."

"Don't forget Kaye, you have me as well," said Seleca. She looked to both Kaye and Keiro. "You both have me. I'll be here. Ready to stand by your side and support you." Her face suddenly brightened, a glimmer appeared in her eyes. "In fact, I'm going to start helping you two out by starting a collection! I'll set up fundraisers and sell things that I don't need or want!"

"Oh Seleca," Kaye said, throwing her arms around her friend gratefully, hugging her tightly to her. "Thank you so much, but you don't have to do all that. The selling part anyway."

"None of those things matter to me as much as you do," Seleca insisted. She pulled away from Kaye for a few seconds, that was when Kaye noticed the pearl necklace that Seleca wore around her neck. She watched as her friend slipped it over her head. Before she could say anything, Kaye found the pearl necklace around her own neck. Lifting the necklace to eye-level, she examined them closely. She couldn't believe it. These were not fake plastic pearls, like the kind you would expect the Capitolites to wear. No, these were actual, genuine pearls! Actually made from sand that got in between the shells of oysters. And after spending a long enough time, the sand eventually became the beauties that she was holding. Her eyes widened further. Judging from Keiro's face, she could tell he was as equally as surprised. Both of them looked to Seleca. How did she get these? Keeping treasures such as these was illegal. If the Peacekeepers ever found out, she could be in huge trouble. Like, execution-on-charges-of-witholding-treasures-that-should-be-given-to the-government, trouble.

"Where did you-?" Kaye started to ask.

"You know how my father worked in one of the factories that processes all the clams and oysters and other shellfish? Well, he has to take each of the oysters and open them to see if there are any pearls in there. If there are, he's supposed to place them in a bin. Every once in a while he's able to sneak one or two out of the factory. It took him nearly a year to get enough pearls to make this necklace for me. He gave it to me for my birthday a few months ago."

Kaye's eyes widened. "It's beautiful," she said. Her hands started to lift the necklace over her head. "I can't take this necklace from you, Seleca. It's yours."

Her friend's eyes went frantic. Her hands shot forward and gripped Kaye's wrists. "No Kaye, I want you to have these. This necklace can serve as your token. They'll give you a piece of home. Something to hold on to while you're in the arena."

"I don't need a reminder of District Four," Kaye said. "How can I forget you or any thing about this place? This is my home."

"Will you still wear it anyway, please?" Seleca pleaded. "I want to see these pearls dazzle the whole Capitol. I want to see you wearing them." She looked her friend up and down, a smile appearing on her face. "They do compliment you better than they ever did me."

Kaye didn't have the heart to say no to her friend. "Fine, I'll wear them, if it's that important to you." She held Seleca's hand tightly in hers. "I'll be sure to give them back to you as soon as I get back from the Games. I swear it."

The two girls hugged each other once more. Keiro stood off to the side, allowing them to have a few moments. However, he had something to say, so despite the fact it hurt him to cut their embrace short, he walked over to them. Looking Kaye straight in the eye, he said, "Kaye, you have to listen to me. I've been chosen to be one of the Mentors of District Four."

Kaye smiled. "Well that's good news."

He shook his head. "By default, I am supposed to be mentoring the District Four boy. If I don't, then I'll be in serious trouble."

"So who is going to be my mentor?"

"Mags."

Kaye's eyes widened. "Mags?" Keiro nodded in confirmation. "But I want you to be my mentor though."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Kaye. Rules are rules. If I don't follow them, the Capitol will hurt my family. And yours too. If these kind of rules are broken, they won't take it lightly."

A sharp frown appeared on Kaye's face. "Yet they allow people to train as Careers? How fair is that?"

Keiro shrugged. "Who said the Capitol is fair? If it were fair, we wouldn't be having these Games in the first place."

"Shh," Seleca said. "They probably have this room bugged," she whispered.

Keiro swore. But before any of them could say anything more, the Peacekeeper opened the door. "Time for you two to get out." Looking at Keiro specifically, he said, "they want you down at the train station."

"Alright, I'll be down in a few minutes." Turning to Kaye, he hugged her close to him. "Don't worry," he whispered. "Mags is a good mentor."

"Explain why no other girls haven't won since she became a Victor!" exclaimed Kaye under her breath.

Keiro didn't. He broke their embrace. "Don't worry Kaye. The odds are in your favor. More than you may think." With that, he left the room.

"Time for you to get out too girl," the Peacekeeper said sharply to Seleca.

Quickly Seleca hugged Kaye one last time. "Win the Games and come home as soon as you can," she said.

"I'll be back before you know it." She felt Seleca place a kiss on her cheek for goodbye and best wishes, a common custom in District Four. With that, Kaye watched as her friend left the room.

The Peacekeeper then indicated that it was time for Kaye to make her way to the train station as well. "Come on girl," she said. "Time for you to start heading to the station too."

. . . . .

Right after Mayor Tap had finished reading the Treaty of Treason and the Anthem played out the Reapings, Mihailo Sullivan found himself being escorted off the stage. Breathing in and out slowly, he managed to keep a sense of calm about him. Keeping his eyes facing forward, he saw that Kaye Bennett was also keeping her face calm and devoid of any fear and horror that surely was rolling around in her. Looking at her, he knew she was going to be a deadly opponent. Even with the way she carried herself on the one foot. He had noticed this as she was climbing down the stage, always making sure she walked on it in a seemingly-normal way, but at the same time trying not to put all of her weight on it. Clearly she had injured it at some point in her life and it wasn't fully healed.

As soon as they entered the Justice Building, Mihailo found himself led down a hall to the left, while Kaye was led down one to the right. Both of the Peacekeepers were silent as they led him down it. Not saying a single word, not even to each other. This didn't bother Mihailo much. It gave him a chance to focus on how he could possibly get out of this mess alive. Even though he had a bad feeling he wouldn't, he sure as heck wasn't going to not try. How does one know for certain if they don't even try first?

After being placed in the room where he would be able to say his last goodbyes, Mihailo sat down. If he had it his way, he'd try and escape. But from what he could tell, there was no way he was going to get out of this room. No windows or anything. Needless to say, he was undoubtedly going to the Games. So how was he going to get out of the arena alive? Becoming a part of the Career alliance was going to be very important. If he didn't, then he wouldn't stand a chance. Did he really have any chance of getting in though? Sure he was a boy from District Four, and District Four tributes usually made up the Career alliances with One and Two. That didn't mean he was automatically in. Every person got into the Career alliance because they possessed a skill that would be helpful to the alliance. What skills did he possibly have that the Careers could possibly want? Sure he was good in many different forms of hand-to-hand combat, but so wouldn't some of them no doubt. Sure he was quick, but some of them were no doubt pretty quick too.

The only thing that he could really think of was his photographic memory. How would that come in handy though? How could it serve the Career alliance in any way at all?

The door opened, and he knew that he would have to save those questions for later. Immediately his mother, stepfather, and Elliot his half-brother entered. His mother was sobbing like crazy, tears rolling down her cheeks, a couple streaming down her neck and soaking the collar of the shirt she wore. Before he had time to even process what was happening, she was hugging him closely, running her hands through his straight dark hair. "Oh Mihailo!" she cried. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He raised his eyebrows, even though he knew she couldn't see. Sorry? What was she talking about? This didn't make any sense. "Mom..."

"I'm so sorry!" his mother wept, breaking down into even more tears.

This was a new experience for Mihailo. His mother wasn't around often because of her occupation as a hired hit, so custody had been granted to his father. On the few occasions he did get to see her, he never recalled her crying. Okay, there were a couple of times. There was that time when Elliot nearly drowned after getting caught in a fishing accident while on a field trip. And there was that one time, Mihailo was very young so he couldn't recall many of the details, but some stranger came up to him and asked him who he was. Of course, Mihailo knew better than to talk to strangers so he didn't answer. Yet the man kept asking him who he was and who his family were. Even stranger, for some reason, he kept asking who his mother was mostly. It wasn't until his father, who had been busy with a drilling session, spotted the man and told him to get lost. When the man said he wouldn't, his father threatened to take him into the Justice Building and place him under arrest. Either man really didn't want to be taken into custody or he lost interest, because he left when his father looked behind his shoulder and started calling for backup. When his mother heard the news she broke down then too. Rubbing soothing circles along his mother's back, he said, "Mom, I don't understand. What's wrong?"

"Kira," his stepfather said as he gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Kira, you're not making any sense."

"Yeah Mom, how could it possibly be your fault that Mihailo got reaped?" asked Elliot. "It was all just luck of the draw. How could you possibly have any dealing with it?"

"Because they fixed the Reaping!" she sobbed. "They fixed the Reaping so that Mihailo would be picked!"

His stepfather's eyes widened. "Fixed? How do you know? Who would do that?"

"And why?" asked Elliot. "Why would they fix the Reaping?" Everyone was looking at her for answers. Mihailo was the only one who remained silent. Right now, he was too horrified to say anything. When he had heard the words, his blood had gone cold. Chills shivered and crawled down his spine like an army of ants had marched down them. So he wasn't just _reaped_? Somebody had fixed it, to make sure that he would be picked. Why him? What did his mother to do that must have pissed somebody off enough to get revenge by placing her son in the Games?

After much coaxing, prodding, and repeating the question, she finally managed to pull herself together enough to give a brief description of the story. "On the mission I just came back from, I was hired by a major Capitolite citizen to take out another Capitolite citizen."

"Who?" asked his stepfather.

"The hirer wouldn't give me a real name. Instead he just called himself '_The Taker_.' He didn't explain the name, nor did I ask. All he said was I'd get a huge sum of cash if I did the job. I accepted it. But then he added onto the deal. An addition I did not agree to, yet had no choice but to accept or else they would threaten to do so anyway."

"What was that addition?"

"They would kill my youngest son," she said. "I tried telling them I wouldn't do the job, but they threatened to kill Mihailo if I didn't. I told them that they didn't know what they were talking about, I didn't have a son. Somehow, they must have dragged up files. Not just on me, but every single person who ever had an encounter with me. This Capitolite had deep connections in many places. He pulled in files of you guys, on my friends, my family, even people who I sometimes buy groceries from at the market! Read off each of their names and they had a lie detector machine on their end of the phone. Pretty advanced. They could tell that I was lying just by the way my voice rose even a slight bit in pitch.

"I was so close in succeeding in my mission. I just had to shoot a woman right in the head. I was on the opposite side of the street. I was aiming my rifle right at her through her window. Had her set in my sights. My fingertips just brushing against the trigger. Just when I was going to pull the trigger, she bent down. At first I thought she had spotted me and that my cover was blown. But that wasn't the reason..."

"What was the reason?" asked Mihailo. What could have possibly kept his mother from killing a target. Enough to even put her own son on the line.

"She had a baby with her. A little baby boy. Wrapped in blankets except for his little head, which covered in little brown fuzz that was only just starting to grow into longer strands. He was only a few months old. Four months at the most, if that.

"I know I have taken parents away from children with my work, I've taken siblings away from one another, taken friends who never knew they'd never speak to each other again. Because they would be victims of my work. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. To take that woman out of her life when she needed to be there for her child. So I packed up my stuff. I told _Taker_ that he could get someone else to do it. I wasn't going to have the death of a little baby's mother on my conscience. He warned me, said that he would come after Mihailo unless I carried out his order." She buried her face in her hands. "I told him to take his order and to shove it up his ass. And if he or someone he sent came after my son, I would kill them and make it so they would never be recognizable by any DNA scan."

'I have other ways of killing your son without getting my or my employees' hands dirty. Ways that can only be imagined in your worst of nightmares.' That was what he said to me over the phone. Then he told me that I sealed my son's fate." She whimpered. "Now I see what he meant. Killing you instantly would have been bad. But to have you reaped on purpose so you can enter the Games. That's the worse thing anyone could ever do to someone's child. That's why the Capitol does it. The power lies not only in your ability to keep your belly full, but also by the way you can manipulate the future. The ones who come after you." Another whimper escaped her. "I'm so sorry Mihailo. I should have just killed that woman. Pulled the trigger as soon as she set the baby down again. But I just...I just..couldn't..."

Mihailo wrapped his arms around tightly around his mother. "You did the right thing, Mom," he whispered in a gentle tone, trying to calm her down. Even though he didn't like the fact that his mother's choice to do the right thing was effecting him, he was glad that she did. Somewhere in the Capitol was a woman who was caring for her baby. Either staying at home caring for him, or perhaps going out and working to help pay the bills. Either way, it was because of his mother's refusal that that woman was able to keep caring for it. "It wasn't easy, but doing the right thing is now always easy anyway. Sadly, even doing the right thing has its consequences."

"If only the consequences didn't have to effect the ones who didn't deserve it."

"Unfortunately the world isn't like that," said Mihailo's stepfather as he stepped forward. He got down and hugged him close. "The world is unfair. Life itself isn't fair. If it were though, mankind would never be able to comprehend fairness."

Leave it to his stepfather to put a philosophic spin on things. However, before anything else could be said, the door opened, and the Peacekeeper told them that it was time they all left. Quickly his mother threw her arms around him once more and held him tightly, kissing his temple and cheek. "Stay strong, Mihailo."

"Stay alive," said his stepfather. "Do what you must. Don't ever let anyone get the better of you. You're strong and you know that. Use what you know to your advantage."

"Be careful," Elliot said. "Don't let your kleptomania get you into trouble. I know it's tough bro, but you have to fight it. Don't let it overcome you. If you do, you'll be in serious trouble."

"I will," Mihailo promised.

All three of his friends hugged him tightly. Then they made their way out of the room. Once they were all out, the Peacekeeper closed the door and locked it. However, the door did not stay closed for long. When it opened, Daniel, Syria, and Lilia entered. Daniel's face had disbelief all over it. Lilia was quivering so much that Daniel had to hold her hand in order to keep her from losing her balance. And Syria, poor Syria, looked like a complete wreck. There weren't any tears that were falling from her eyes, but her teeth were grit together. Her eyes were downcast, and her lip was quivering.

Slowly Mihailo walked up to them. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, that terrible feeling you get when you fee like you are saying goodbye to someone. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. A thousand cracks seemed to spread across Mihailo's heart. So many of them it would probably take more than glue and tape to get them to fit properly if all the cracks eventually if the heart shattered into a thousand pieces. Which was what it was getting pretty close too.

"I still can't believe you got picked," Daniel said. "There were tons of slips in there. You had only one slip and many people had up to forty or more! Yet out of all of them, it was your slip that got picked. How could it happen?"

At first, Miahilo thought about explaining, telling his friends what he now knew. But he knew that that probably wouldn't be a good idea. Without any choice of his own, he had found himself caught in a situation in the Capitol. And that was only because he was a family member of a hired hit! Who knew what could happen to his friends if he told them what he knew. That someone named _The Taker_ had somehow managed to pay one of the higher-ups to rig it. Make sure that he would be picked. So that his mother suffer for not going through with her job. Who knew what could happen to his friends if they found it? For their sake, it was best to keep his mouth shut. Shrugging, he said, "The odds just weren't in my favor I guess."

Next thing he knew, Syria came up to him and pulled him tightly in her embrace. For a moment, he was stunned. It wasn't like her to just go and give hugs. Usually had to keep pestering her until she gave in. The fact that she done it freely surprised everyone in the whole room. Even Lilia had stopped crying, so stunned by what had just happened in front of them. For a moment the whole room was silent as they watched the two friends embrace each other warmly. Daniel and Lilia stood off to the side, not wanting to intervene. They both looked to each other and nodded. Despite Mihailo's and Syria's attempts to hide it, everyone knew that Syria and Mihailo had a crush on one another. They could talk to each other for hours on end. Always interested in what the other had to say. Willing be the other's sparring partner when they needed one at the Academy. Everyone knew that they liked each other. Yet they had no idea why they kept trying deny it.

Normally, Mihailo would have looked up and insisted to his two friends standing to the side that he didn't like Syria. And normally she would be agreeing with him, saying how disgusting it would be if they ever got together. This time though, neither one of them could do it. Not here. Not now. Not when it could possibly be the last embrace with one of his best friends. This was just too good of a moment. Who cared if they knew?

Finally, Syria broke the silence and said, "Please come home as soon as you can, Mihailo."

Mihailo ran his hand through Syria's hair in reassurance. "I will be home soon. I promise."

Then in a moment where they must have realized that they weren't alone in the room, the two friends pealed themselves away. "Right then," said Mihailo, a blush starting to form in his cheeks.

"Yeah," agreed Syria, shifting awkwardly from one foot to another.

Daniel leaned in close to Lila's ear. "Just when I thought things were going to get interesting."

"Figures. Usually whenever stuff this good happens between people for the first time, something happens that makes them awkward. And usually it's around here somebody-"

The door opened and the Peacekeeper stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. "Time for you three to get out."

"Interrupts," Lilia concluded for Daniel.

All three of them hugged Mihailo closely one last time. "Be sure to come back alive," Lilia said.

"You'd better come back alive," said Daniel. "I don't want to lose my buddy."

"Please come back," whispered Syria in a voice above a whisper.

"I will," Mihailo promised. "You can count on it."

Syria then took his hand in hers and he watched as she pulled something from a pocket she had that was sewn to her dress. He felt something smooth and hard placed in his hand. However, he didn't see what it was until Syria pulled her hand back. His eyes widened in happy surprise at the little sand dollar that had been placed in his hand. Not just any sand dollar though, but the one that he and Syria had found a few weeks ago when they were on the beach, spending time together with the rest of their friends after a long day of Career training. They had both found it as they were walking up and down the beach side, however, Mihailo had let her have it. Now, she was giving it to him as his token.

"Syria," he said. "You don't need to give me this-"

"I want you to take it," she insisted firmly. "Please?"

He nodded and slipped the sand dollar in his pants pocket. "Yes, of course."

The Peacekeeper stepped aside to let the three kids pass through. After watching and making sure that they were making their way down the hallway, he then turned to Mihailo. "Come on kid, it's time for you to go."

"Go?" Mihailo asked in disbelief. His eyes widened and his eyebrows rose.

"Yeah, go," said the Peacekeeper. "You know, the English word that describes the moving of an object from one place to another."

Mihailo frowned sharply. "I know what it means," he said, doing his best to make his tone not sound like he was a little kid whining. Kind of hard to do when a Peacekeeper was patronizing you though. "I just don't understand. Don't I have anymore visitors?"

"Who else is there left for you to see?"

"How about my father?" Mihailo asked. "Is he out there?"

"I don't see anybody out there."

Mihailo frowned. "Do you even know who my Dad is?"

The Peacekeeper looked him over. Examining him he were a scientist and Mihailo was some unknown species that had been recently discovered. "No. I don't think so," he said. Suddenly his eyes lit up with recognition. "Oh yeah, you're Peacekeeper Sullivan's son aren't you?" Before Mihailo could give a response, the Peacekeeper said, "Yeah, you definitely are. The two of you look a lot alike. Same hair and eyes and facial features. Hate to tell you kid, but your Dad isn't coming."

That surprised Mihailo. "He's not coming? Why?"

"Just called to the Capitol for some reason. No clue why. A message came in saying that he was wanted at the Capitol."

The woman Peacekeeper who had escorted him into the room appeared next to the male Peacekeeper in the doorway. "Come on kid," she said. "Time for you to make your way to the Capitol too. Get to have your chance to bring honor and fame to you, your family and to District Four. Doesn't that sound exciting?"

Mihailo didn't answer. Right now, the only thing he could really think of saying was how idiotic these two were. Knowing that saying as such wouldn't be a good idea though, he kept his mouth shut. Begrudgingly, he allowed the Peacekeepers to lead him out of the room. Walking along either side of him, they escorted him down to the end of the hallway until they were joined up with Kaye Bennett and her Peacekeeper escorts at the doors through which they had entered the Justice Building. Looking out the glass doorway, Mihailo saw cameras flashing and huge crowds on either side of the road. A car waited for them outside the door, waiting to take them to the train station, which was all the on the other side of the District. District Four was a pretty decent-sized place, with most of it being made up of shacks that nestled along the beach area. The further inland you went, the more the homes came to look like they could actually be lived in at. In the center was the Justice Building and other important shoppes. Towards the end, where the electrified fence served as the border of Four, was the train station. The place where all the fish and other sea food was taken, and supplies were brought in.

Quickly the Peacekeepers escorted Mihailo and Kaye to the vehicle. Once they were all situated, the driver was ordered to start heading in the direction of the train station. The windows were left rolled down so that the cameras on either side could feast their lenses on the two faces that belonged to the Tributes of District Four. From where he sat, Mihailo could see Kaye waving to the crowd, smiling brilliantly. Every once in a while blowing kisses out to the crowd. At first he thought she was just doing it to be in the spotlight, but that's when his own (what little) Career training he had started to kick in. Of course! The audiences loved Tributes that were charismatic and enchanting. That was what Kaye Bennett was doing right now. She was going to win this crowd over with her outgoing nature. And maybe even get some Sponsors.

_Well what are you doing_? a voice in the back of his head told him. _Be outgoing too_! Quickly, he started waving to the crowd, smiling. Not taking his eyes off of them, as if his life depended on it. (Which in a way it probably did. Sponsors could be the difference between life and death for a person.)

It seemed like it took forever before they reached the train that was waiting for them. Even longer for them to actually get on it, because the cameras wanted to get images of them. And of course, some of the Capitolites wanted a quick interview with Kaye, who willingly obliged. Mihailo squirmed in jealousy. Out of the two of them, there was no doubt that Kaye was getting the most attention. Everyone loved the sexy girl more than the twelve-year-old boy who didn't look that impressive.

"_Let them keep thinking that_," he thought. "_Maybe I can use that to my advantage. With the spotlight never on me, maybe I can manage to evade the main part of the competition's attention. When I'm with the Careers (assuming they'll take me) I'll practically have it made. I'll show The Taker that he can try and play his Games with me, but this twelve-year-old knows how to play too_."

Finally, Mihailo and Kaye were allowed to enter the train. Capitol attendants stood at attention, ready to serve the Tributes in anyway they possibly could. The train lurched forward as soon as the doors closed, and Mihailo felt his balance give for a second, but he managed to catch his balance before he hit the floor. Kaye however wasn't so quick. She lurched forward and hit the floor, managing to spread her hands out in front of her, keeping it so that her face didn't crack against it. From the look on her face, Mihailo knew she didn't feel hurt. Just surprised. That surprise though was enough to make her feel indignant though. Her cheeks blushed when she looked up and she caught him looking at her. "What are you looking at?" he said irritably.

He shrugged. "Nothing," he lied.

"I thought so." Slowly Kaye started to raise herself from the floor. A Capitol attendant made his way toward her to help, but she brushed him aside. "Thanks," she said politely, "but I don't need your help." Slowly the Capitol attendant backed away, and soon Kaye was standing on her own. Smiling as if nothing had happened, she said, "I'm going to make my way to the chambers. I really don't feel like wearing this dress anymore." Nobody responded, and Mihailo wasn't sure if she did want one. Instead, all she did was walk past him in the direction of the compartment where their chambers would be.

While Kaye checked out her compartment, Mihailo decided he would check out his own. Growing up in a family that were very involved with the Peacekeepers, he was actually pretty privileged than most people in the District. However, when he entered, he had to admit, he was pretty impressed. The bed and the sheets that were placed on it were very soft. The dresser was well crafted, no doubt probably made from some of the best lumber that District Seven had to offer. He didn't bother checking the bathroom out though. Instead, he went to the dresser and chose a green short-sleeved shirt and a pair of black athletic shorts. Placing his discarded dress clothes on the bed, he left the chamber and made his way over to the Dining Car. He hadn't eaten anything since lunch, and that had only been a couple of bits of fish on a soft wheat taco shell. (His family was mostly of Hispanic-Franco heritage, at least, according to what his grandparents said before they died, so they liked to keep to some specific ways of preparing their meals.)

When he entered the Dining compartment, his eyes widened in surprise. There was more than just fish! In District Four, the people mostly lived on the bounty of the sea. Crabs, fish, even shark on occasion. This was something else though. Even though there was still seafood as an option, there were all sorts of different kinds of meats. Beef, chicken, lamb, pork, ham, turkey, and water fowl such as duck and geese! Capitol attendants served the meats with different kinds of sauces: barbecue, orange, tomato, sweet and sour! The amount of sides was impressive too. Fresh green salad, brightly colored fruits that he knew and heard of, and others that he had no clue, and many different kinds of bread. The beverages, well there were too many to describe. Milk that had flavorings in it, all different kinds of fruit and vegetable juices, and many different kinds of warm drinks.

He had been so busy staring at the food that he hadn't even noticed somebody had entered the Dining Car a couple of minutes after he had. "The food tastes just as impressive as it looks," a masculine voice said. The voice caused Mihailo to jump in startlement. He quickly regained himself though as he saw the person who the voice belonged to. Keiro Thoren. At only twenty years old and still well built, Keiro appeared to be a picture of health. However, rumor had been spreading that he hadn't been in a decent mind lately. Nightmares that usually consisted of him and what he did in the Games haunted him every night. An image of Keiro during the Reaping flashed through his mind, and he recalled how Keiro's eyes had widened in surprised horror as Kaye had been reaped. He wasn't sure how, but Mihailo had a feeling that Keiro was connected to Kaye some how. Probably lovers, they could very well be. Or perhaps they were just friends. Either way, it made him nervous. What if Keiro showed favoritism to Kaye and didn't train him? It was illegal, he knew. But still. It made him nervous, and he decided that he would have to be careful trusting his Mentor.

Keiro made his way over to the food counter, where a man with red hair and tan skin stood, was busy mixing different kinds of colored drinks. "Hey," Keiro said, "a tokay please." The man nodded and started taking down various colored liquids and started mixing them together. When he was done, he handed a glass filled with the stuff to Keiro. "Thank you."

"What is that?" Mihailo asked. He turned to the man behind the counter. "Can I have some?"

"Don't you think you're a little young for this kind of stuff, kid?" asked the man.

Mihailo frowned. "I don't know, I've never had it before. What is it?"

"It's basically alcohol," answered Keiro. The twenty-year-old took a sip of the stuff in the glass. "I would recommend you stay away from it. You don't want to get hammered. Trust me. I'm willing to bet that you never reank before. So it won't take much."

Mihailo frowned. But he decided to take the guy's advice. Turning away, he decided to fill his plate with some of the food that had been set out. He chose a piece of steak, sweet and sour sauce to go with it, some sliced carrots, and some applesauce. Sampling each of the things he had chosen, he found that it was some of the best food he ever ate! The steak was so tender and juicy that you could actually feel the meat giving way as you bit down and the juice squirting into your mouth. Dunked in the sauce and...well...it was too amazing for words. The carrots were fresh and crunchy. The apple sauce smooth and chilled, and rolled down your throat easily without any trouble.

"Be sure to save some room in your stomach!" exclaimed Bacchus Plurius, District Four's Escort. The man still wore his ridiculous blue clothes that made him look like a glittering blueberry. The sudden appearance almost made Mihailo drop his plate, but he managed to stop it before anything spilled onto the floor. He shot the Capitolite a glare, but Bacchus had his back turned, facing the direction of the serving table. The man busily started filling his plate. Placing piles of each thing onto his plate, which appeared to be the size of a platter. Mihailo's eyes widened. Never had he seen anyone pile so much food onto so huge a plate! Having Elliot as an older stepbrother, Mihailo had seen Elliot eat a _lot_. Whereas Elliot seemed to find some unknown place to pack the stuff though, you could tell where the food went on Bacchus. Everything about him showed that he was a gluttonous man, always indulging himself in food. Standing off to the side, he watched in disgust as Bacchus shoved mouthful after mouthful. Sauce dribbling down his chin, chewing with his mouth full, always grabbing more to fill his plate even though he still had a lot on it.

"Disgusting pig," Mihailo muttered, suddenly losing his appetite.

"Come on," Keiro said, "let's join Mags and Kaye out in the living room to watch the Reapings." Obediently, Mihailo followed. To his disappointment, so didn't Bacchus. He could hear the guy tearing into a chicken drumstick as they made their way down the corridor. With the way his lips smacked, Mihailo couldn't help but shutter.

"Something wrong?" asked Bacchus, his mouth full. Spittle sprayed across the corridor, along with tiny bits and pieces of whatever the heck he was eating

"Nothing," Mihailo lied. "Just cold."

"Doesn't surprise me," Bacchus said. "You District Four people are used to the warm weather. No wonder you get cold so easily."

They entered the living room compartment, and there, they found Ming...er... Mags Xu and Kaye waiting for them. Mags had her hair done up in a tight bun, and she wore a pin that looked like the shape of crane. She wore a dress that had splashes of red, blue, and yellow on it. While she stood, Kaye had taken a seat on the couch. She wore a tight blue short-sleeved shirt, the collar trimmed so low as to reveal the starts of her dress. The red capri pants were short, stopping about six inches above her knees. "Just in time," Kaye told them, "they're about to show the Reapings for District One." The smile quickly wiped off her face, and at first Mihailo thought it was because of him. What? Was he too ugly or something? Not that he cared, but still. She hadn't been very nice to him.

Deciding to ignore it, he started to walk past her in the direction of one of the chairs to the side of the room. However, he felt his arms suddenly be pulled, and the next thing he knew he was sitting on Kaye's right. Before he could ask, she whispered in his ear, "Sit here. Bacchus just gave me a desiring look. I think he wants me."

Mihailo glanced at Bacchus. He was sitting in the chair he had been previously about to sit in, shoving bite after bite of food in that black hole he called his mouth. In a way he looked like a large, living vacuum cleaner. "Are you sure he just wasn't staring one of the drumsticks on his plate?" A shudder ran down his spine as he watched grease from one of the fried, crispy chicken leg dribbled down the Escort's chin.

"Trust me," Kaye whispered. "He looked at me like that. It disgusts me. Listen, tell you what. Sit next to me whenever we're together and he's around, and I'll find a way to make sure you get into the Career alliance."

Insulted, Mihailo frowned sharply. Sure, he was on the young side. But he did train. In fact, he had been pretty good for somebody his age. He took out one of the average-skilled fourteen year olds during one of their practice matches. He remembered kicking the boy in the face and managing to lock the boy in a headlock once he was on the floor. The boy was definitely strong for somebody Mihailo's age to take on, but Mihailo had been quick like a mako shark. Thanks to that, he was able to bring down some large and powerful opponents. "What makes you think I won't get in? I'm from Four, like you. I have a decent chance."

"You're also twelve years old. A bit too young for a Career, wouldn't you think?"

"There's been Careers this young!"

"How many have lasted?"

Mihailo opened his mouth to argue, and closed it. Dang it, she was right. Out of all the Careers, there weren't many on the young side that ever made it. He couldn't recall any, though there may have been a couple. Growling, he said, "Fine."

"If you two are done, you might want to pay attention to the Reapings," Mags pointed out to them.

Mihailo kept his mouth shut as he watched the Reapings unfold. He left the talking mostly to Mags, Keiro, and Kaye.

"That Elina Celest from District One looks like she means business, look at her. Her expression reads she wants blood," Mags said.

"Did you see Jett Tyson?" asked Kaye, a disbelieving grin on his face. "That guy is an idiot. He'll probably die on the first day. You watch."

District Two's Reaping followed shortly after. Mihailo's eyes widened in shock as he watched the girl who had been reaped (he didn't catch her name) lunged at the girl who had tried to take her place and slit her throat. The blood was spattered all across the wooden stage and people were called in to collect the dead girl's body and to clean up the mess. The boy from District Two, Mason Ryker, also appeared deadly. Blond hair and liquid gold eyes, eighteen years old and well-muscled, he definitely looked like a huge contender.

"He's actually pretty sexy," Kaye commented, her eyes looking the District Two boy up and down, eating his image up like a starving girl who hadn't eaten in over a week.

"Don't get too attached," Mags warned. But from the look on Kaye's face, she looked like she hadn't heard a word.

The rest of the Districts weren't very impressive. Both of the Tributes from Three looked like they were extremely smart, other than that though, they had nothing else going for them. Even though the two Tributes from Five weren't impressive physically, the boy looked pretty clever and nimble. The girl from Six looked like she was going to be a lost cause, especially when compared to the boy Tribute, the son of District Six's two past Victors. Mihailo saw that hungry look that Kaye had earlier. "Let me guess, you think he's sexy too?"

"Definitely. Actually I'm having trouble deciding which one is more so, Mason Ryker or this..uh...," she paused as she read the name of the boy on the screen. "Thomas Morgan."

"They both look very deadly," Keiro said, concern crystal clear in his voice.

Mags nodded in agreement. "With him being the son of two Victors, it wouldn't surprise me if that Thomas kid did have training."

After District Six came District Seven. The girl, Venus Lance, appeared rugged and fierce. The way she stood before the crowd showed she was going to be a deadly competitor in the Games. Which didn't surprise Mihailo. He knew how District Seven had lots of forests, and that the people there were pretty good with axes. That would probably not help not only Venus, but her District Partner, Sauveir Estante. "Better keep an eye out for those two," he said. Everyone nodded in agreement.

Neither of the Tributes from District Eight were impressive. While it was surprising that a boy from Nine volunteered to take the place of the boy who had been reaped, it was clear that he wasn't impressive. If he made it past the Bloodbath, he'd last only a couple of days. The boy from District Ten would more than likely die in the Bloodbath. However, the girl looked like she could stand a chance, but again, she didn't look very impressive. The girl from District Eleven was a small girl. The boy from District Eleven was pretty tall, and looked like he could make a great addition to the Careers. However, when he threw up all over his Escort, it was decided that perhaps he wasn't Career material at all. As usual, District Twelve was basically nothing. It took the girl a bit to even realize it had been her name that had been called. And the boy from Twelve, while maybe not a complete lost cause, wasn't any different.

Kaye smiled confidently. "I think that despite how young some of us Careers are, we might actually have an easy year."

"Don't get too confident," Mags said as she switched off the TV. "I agree, they may not look like much, most of them. We don't know everything about them though. Let's wait and find out what they can do."

"Agreed," Keiro said.

Mihailo said nothing. In his mind, even though that the Mentors were probably right, he was still cheering. Many of the Tributes looked like they may not stand a chance! That meant that there was still a chance for him to win the Game! All he would have to do was outplay and outlast the rest of the Tributes. Victory would be his, and he'd be able to go home.

"You watch _Taker,_" he thought. "I'm going to win these Games. When I do, you won't ever be able to touch me. You watch. It may have been because of you I was reaped for the Games, but in the end you're going to be the one who's going to lose." A huge smile crept across his face as he thought about it.

"What are you smiling about?" Kaye asked. "It's kind of creepy."

"Oh nothing," he quickly lied, removing the grin from his face. Absolutely nothing at all.

**AN: In other news,** **the character Tribute pictures for Elina Celest, Jett Tyson, Avery Nicholet, and Mason Ryker are complete. Once I have all the pictures, I'm going to post them on my blog and my livejournal, along with bios. **

**I've also been working on all of the costumes for the Chariot Rides. This is going to be fun. :)  
**


	23. Chapter 22: D5 Goodbyes and Train Rides

AN: Hey guys. Sorry for the rather slow updates, my schedule has been very busy lately. And with school, yeah, expect the updates to be less forthcoming. I'm going to try and stick to a schedule where I update like every couple weeks or something. I don't know though. It'll have to depend on how many tasks I have to do, and also depending on the readers themselves. The reviews, favorites, and alerts show that people are interested. The more the audience shows interest, the more I'm going to want to update. As I said, I write to please myself, but I also love the feedback people give me. So yeah. Guess we'll find out. :)

The traditional song of District Five in this chapter is one that I created. You take it, you'll be stealing. I even have it copyrighted. As you can see below:

©"Sway With The Wind"

I ask that if you wish to use it to please ask my permission. Usually I'm willing to share, as long as I get credit and such. :)

Many thanks goes to my editor for this chapter, Jfgirl. (Short for jesusfreakauthorgirl17). This chapter looks so much better than it did when it was first written, trust me.

Chapter Twenty-Two

D5 Goodbyes and Train Rides

Once the Mayor finished reading the Treaty of Treason and the Anthem played itself out, Allura Swan found herself being escorted off the stage and into the Justice Building. Behind her, Aden North followed, with two Peacekeepers on either side of him. Looking at the boy, she thought she may have recognized him. Sometimes she would volunteer at a soup kitchen which was held once every year in the winter. It was a secret event, held in the downtown area of the District, where Peacekeepers didn't always go. There, anyone- regardless of their heritage or religion- could come and have some soup, a delicacy that not everyone in District Five could afford during the winter. She could recall seeing him there, and she may have actually served him some if she recalled correctly. He seemed like a decent guy, even if he was homeless. And she had heard him sing and play his guitar on the street corners. If she had any spare change on her she would throw in some in his hat. The boy had a gift, quite an amazing one. His voice, coupled with the strings of the guitar, made him sound like he was an angel that walked the Earth.

It was a shame he would have to die.

She shuddered at the thought. Killing people was one of the last things she wanted to do. Hopefully, she could avoid having to. Still, you had to be prepared for anything. Now, she was preparing herself for the concept that she would have to kill her District Partner. Not one of the most comforting things to think about, but still a necessity. No matter what, no matter her connections to him in the past, there was no way she was going to let it get in the way of her winning these Games. Her father was gone, and her mother was suffering from depression. If she was killed, her brother would have nobody left. Sure he had a few friends and Mrs. Patterson, still. But he deserved to have a blood family member still living and who wasn't trapped in depression. She was his younger sister and they needed to support each other. The words that rattled around in her head as she mentally cursed the Capitol were quite colorful, but not in a good way.

Neither one of the two Peacekeepers who escorted Allura into the Justice Building and into the room where she was to say her goodbyes were very talkative. Only saying a couple things to one another and then either nodding, shrugging, or shaking their head in response. So the walk to the goodbye room felt just as long as the one to the stage had. It felt even more empty when the two Peacekeepers opened a door to one of the rooms in the hallway and led her in. Once she was in the room, the Peacekeepers turned around and exited, closing the door and locking it behind them. Scanning the room, Allura could see that it was well furnished. The lack of windows didn't help much, no windows meant that no tributes could escapeIt was quite depressing to think about. To think that last year and the year before and all the other years there had been Hunger Games, kids had been brought into this exact same room...

Yeah, she would definitely be having nightmares when she went to bed tonight.

Taking a seat in one of the chairs, Allura waited. She breathed in slowly through her nose, and then let it out her mouth at the same rate. It took about a minute, but the exercise was starting to work. At least until the door opened. First her mother, and her brother walked in. Her mother was still staring off into space, a sad look in her expression. Her movements were sluggish and slow, even as Lucas helped lead her over to where Allura was sitting.

Fuming, Allura snapped her attention away from her mother and instead turned to her brother. She indicated with her hand and allowed the incredulous gleam in her eyes to show just how frustrated she was. All her brother could do was shrug. An urge to scream at him for making excuses for their mother rushed through her, but the conversation she remembered having with him before the Reaping reminded her what she had promised. So instead, she picked up a pillow on the couch and buried her face into it, screaming and biting down on it with enough force for her teeth to bite into the fabric. She could feel the stuffing brushing against her teeth. And she had also found that the pillow itself, while it looked pretty good in appearance, didn't exactly taste good. All the while, Lucas stood by and rubbed circles into her back, trying to provide some sense of comfort. Neither one of them said much though. What was there to say really? That it was going to be fine? That she would go and win the Games? That was not the least bit believable.

Finally lifting her head up from the pillow, Allura turned to Lucas and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back in return, holding her closely. As she hugged him, she could feel the tears threatening to come out of her eyes. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't keep all them contained. A few managed to slip down from her closed eyelids and slid down her cheeks, dripping onto her brother's shoulder. Drenching the fabric of his good dress shirt. Her throat started to choke up, and her voice came out in a throaty rasp, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said. "It's just a dress shirt. It's not like it won't dry."

She pulled away. "That's not what I'm talking about, Lucas. I'm talking about how awful of a sister I've been lately."

"You're not awful, Allura," Lucas insisted.

Dang it, her brother was too righteous for his own good. Seriously. Any other time and place, it may have been nice. But not now when the two of them were saying goodbye, possibly forever. When she had things that needed to be said. She shot him a glare, one she only used when she really needed him to be quiet. Whenever she gave that look, she knew he would obey her. He may be the oldest, but Lucas wasn't the kind of overbearing brother who didn't like it whenever she challenged him. There was one time when they were both young, when she was nine. They were walking down the street and Allura happened to spot some cake in the bakery. She wanted it badly, because even though her parents made a decent salary, they could still barely afford any. They had both managed to make some extra money by selling some of their old toys and clothes. She wanted to buy the cakes, but he told her she had best save it for a rainy day. Knowing that eventually she'd learn her lesson he let her buy the cake. A month later she regretted it because there was an even more brighter and more beautiful cake than the one she had bought. Her brother had managed to buy that one with his money he had saved. There was no I-told-you-so's or anything. Instead, he just ate it, and even offered her a piece. (She refused to take any though, because she didn't want to admit that he was right. ) "Will you shut up and listen?"

"Okay," he said. "I'm all ears."

She sighed and let out a breath. "I will not apologize for all the things that I said towards Mom. I meant every word of them. I don't care if she's depressed or not. She's a mother, she needs to learn to be strong. Be there for her kids when they need her." As she said these things, her voice became more firm and set. Her heart steeled over, refusing to pay any heed to the stings that bit at her heart. Her mother stood in the middle of the room, locked in her own little world. For all Allura knew, she probably couldn't even hear the bitter words that she used. It didn't matter. She may have had it in her heart to forgive, but forgiveness was not something she did easily. In her eyes, forgiveness had to be earned. Perhaps it was harsh, but she didn't care. There were too many incidences that she had seen where people kept giving forgiveness and had their backs always stabbed again. The Peacekeepers doing it to all the various groups were a clear example of it.

"But I will forgive you," she said to Lucas. "For everything that you did that may have pissed me off, every single one of them. From here on, a clean slate. You're my brother, and you've earned it."

Her brother sighed. "You don't get it, do you, sis?"

She raised her eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

Her brother sighed, and shook his head in disbelief. "Allura, forgiveness is not something a person can earn. It's not forgiveness. I mean, if it were something that it would have to be worked for, what's the point? What's the point of even trying? No matter how hard you work, you can still not gain it. There are people who live their whole lives thinking that in order to be forgiven that they must work themselves to the dirt and eat it. But that's not how you get it. Forgiveness is something that's given. Freely. Without any reason other than the fact that it's the right thing to do."

Now it was her turn to shake her head. "Yeah, and then if people betray you again-"

"Then it's up to you to keep on forgiving. Find it in your heart somehow, for we are all capable of it, no matter who we are. No matter what the person has done to us, we have to."

"By that argument you would make it so that the Peacekeepers should be forgiven!"

"We have no idea why they do what they do."

"They're haters! They don't need a reason!" She could feel her voice starting to rise in anger. Her brother was seriously making it hard for her to give him a clean slate.

"There is always a reason why a person does something. A purpose to why a person says, thinks, or does what they do. That does not mean that they should be excused from their actions, or that they should not pay the price for what they did."

And that was when the person they had least expected to say anything at all spoke:

"If we do not forgive, we are no different than our enemies."

Allura turned in the direction she heard the voice. When she looked, she saw her mother. There was still a look on her face she was still suffering from her depression, but it wasn't empty-looking as it was earlier that day. She could see a sense of awareness in her eyes. Her mouth dropped open when she saw it, and she looked to Lucas. He was just as surprised as she was, with the same open-mouth expression. Quickly, the two of them got up from the couch and walked over to their mother. "Mom?" Lucas asked as he made his way towards her.

"Mom?" asked Allura. "Are you there?" Her mother didn't respond, however there were tears in her eyes. "Mom, are you back?" she asked again, a little more firmly. "Are you-"

"Back?" asked their mother. Both Allura and Lucas nodded. She paused for a few moments. "Where did I go?"

Allura and Lucas looked to one another. Turning back to their mother, who still had a confused expression on her face, Lucas said, "You were gone for a long time. But now you're back."

"Yeah, too bad you came back around the time I got reaped for the Hunger Games," Allura muttered bitterly under her breath. Even if her mother was starting to come out of depression, she wasn't in a forgiving mood. And the fact that she had been reaped was not going to make it any better.

The door at the moment opened, and the Peacekeepers ordered that it was time for them to go. Quickly, Allura threw her arms around her brother and held him tightly.

"May the odds be in your favor, sis," he told her.

Their mother tried getting in on the hug as well, but Allura shot her a murderous glare. It caused her mother to step back a few paces. Confusion and sadness started to swim across her face. And if they had time, she probably would have asked if the Peacekeepers didn't march into the room and started to escort them out of the door. "Allura, I love you!" she cried as the Peacekeeper pushed her. Instead of responding, Allura turned her back, pretending to take a fascination in a lamp that stood on one of the tables. Her mother cried out again, and then the doors slammed shut. And when they did, she could feel the guilt entering her heart. Not only was there guilt swimming in there, but also a voice nagging at the back of her mind. No matter how many times she tried to push it away though, it wouldn't go away.

You didn't tell your mother that you loved her, even when she started to come back from her depression. It's good that you feel guilty. That could have been the last time you'd have been able to say that you did love her.

"Guess that's why I had better win then," she said to herself.

She wasn't expecting any more visitors. That was why when the door opened, she was quite surprised. Even more stunned as she saw the last people she had expected to. Two women, who were completely covered in cloth, even the tops of their heads. The clothes left only their faces, which were the color of ash, were revealed. The one woman was probably in her thirties. She looked very beautiful. The other woman was slightly older, perhaps an older sister or something. Their facial features looked a lot alike. As they got closer, Allura wondered what these women were doing here. They didn't really know her personally. Nor did she know them. Heck, she didn't even know their names. Still, she recognized these women anyway. For it was these women who her father had seen being attacked by the Peacekeepers, and tried to defend them. In the process though, it led to his own execution.

The moment she saw them, Allura raised her eyebrows. Getting up from the couch, she walked over to them. Uncertainty swept through her as she looked at the women. For what seemed like a while, all the three of them did was stare at each other. All of them racking their minds in order to think of something to say. But none of them being successful.

Finally, the youngest of the two women who had come to see Allura spoke. Her voice was clear and pure, beautiful as the sound of a wind chime fluttering in the breeze. "You are the girl whose father defended us when the Peacekeepers attacked us six months ago?" the woman asked.

Allura wasn't sure how she should answer. Every fiber in her body wanted to say her answer in harsh bitterness. These were the women who were attacked by the Peacekeepers. The same ones who her father rescued, and the same ones who left when things got ugly for her father. Why the heck should she be forgiving to them? Then again, what was there for her to have to forgive? It's not like the women chose to let the Peacekeepers attack them. Nor was it their fault that her father had been executed. The words her brother had said came back to her. An image of her mother's expression as she was escorted out of the room flashed before her eyes. No, she didn't need more than one image similar to that floating through her mind. Haunting her and causing potential distractions. Something she couldn't afford when it came time for the actual Games.

"Yes," she finally answered. "Yes, I am."

Both of the women looked to one another, and the apologetic expression appeared on both of their faces. "We're sorry," the youngest woman said.

Allura shrugged her shoulders. "Not much that can be done about it now." Frowning, she added, "And it's not like it was your fault I got reaped anyway."

With nothing more that could be said about the subject, the three of them just stood there. For another minute it seemed they were caught in another awkward silence. The quiet was getting kind of awkward, but it was an awkwardness that couldn't be helped.

Finally, the oldest of the women came up to Allura. She pulled out something from one of the pockets in her clothes. Squinting, Allura could see what the item was a necklace. One with lots of brown beads on it. How many she couldn't tell for certain from where she was standing, but there must have been at least one hundred or something close to that amount.

The woman held the necklace close to her heart, her fists clasped tightly around it. Then she started speaking in a language that at first confused Allura. Then she quickly picked up on it. The language was Arabic. Nearly thirty percent of the population in District Five were descended from people who were from parts of the world that were associated with Arabic, and many of them had still managed to keep the language alive in their parts of the community, despite the crackdowns by the government demanding that everyone only know English. Many people in Five, despite not being such, also knew the language. The words the woman spoke filled the entire room:

"Sublan Allah. Al-hamadu lilah. Allahu akbar."

Mentally, Allura translated the words into English:

'Glory be to God. Praise to be God. God is the greatest.'

Instantly, she knew what the necklace was for. It became even more clearer to her as the woman finished and then slowly and carefully handed the necklace to her.

The younger of the women spoke. "Do you believe in Allah?"

Allura shook her head. "No, I'm not religious." Like many people in Panem, Allura wasn't one that held religion as a high importance in her life. And she didn't exactly believe in the existence of some deity. Sure, there was a small chance that a god of some sort was out there. But honestly if God was real, how could he allow such things as Hunger Games to exist? If there was one, he had to be the most awful thing to ever come in contact with, and any praise that went towards him was greatly undeserved. Knowing that saying something like that would probably offend the women, she decided to keep her mouth shut. Instead she asked, "Why do you ask?"

The youngest woman shrugged. "It's not usually a custom for us to give these to people outside of our faith, however," she paused and looked Allura over, "you seem like the kind of girl who would treat these sort of precious items with care. Yes?"

Allura nodded. Even though she wasn't religious, she respected people who were, as long as they respected her in return. "Of course."

The older woman then handed her the beaded necklace. The younger woman explained what was so important about the necklace. "We use these kinds of necklaces in our religion in order to keep track of the number of times we say our meditations, and also when we say our prayers. It is almost like a rosary." Allura stood, uncertain whether she should actually accept this necklace or not. Obviously it was something of great importance to these women. She'd treat it with great respect, but perhaps with not the kind of respect that it would have been treated with by these women. Just when she was about to voice this thought though, the younger woman spoke, "Please, take it. Consider it a thank you from my sister and I. And your token as well."

Allura nodded. "Okay," she said. She then began to slip the necklace over her head and around her neck. The beads clattered together as she did. Once it was around her neck, she looked at the women with gratitude. Words that she never thought she would ever say to these women slipped from her mouth before she could even register what they were. "Thank you."

The Peacekeepers opened the door, and told the women that it was time to get out. Looking at Allura, the Peacekeeper added, "And it's time for you to head off to the Capitol."

Both of the women quickly threw their arms around Allura and hugged her close. Then they whispered partings of, "May Allah go with you." With that they left the room.

The Peacekeepers entered the room and escorted Allura out. As they did, Allura found she could do nothing but think about the visit from the women. Again, she wasn't religious, but she was starting to get this feeling that perhaps something drove them to come and see her. Some unseen force or something. Or maybe..just maybe...it could have been a sign from her father. Perhaps he wanted her to win these Games.

It was going to be difficult, but not impossible.

. . . . .

Aden North found himself escorted down the stage when the Mayor finished reading the Treaty of Treason. The idea of trying to escape crossed his mind. Surely he could. After all, he had dodged Peacekeepers before, when they were sent by the Community Home in order to try and capture him. However, he remembered a story that somebody once told him when he was out on the streets one day. Somebody had asked why the kids not just try and run away from the Peacekeepers as they were escorted into the Justice Building. The person who had asked this had been laughed at by the men whom he was asking. When one of them realized that he was being serious, that man said, 'It's because if they try to escape, the Peacekeepers will kill them. It won't bother them any. One kid tried to escape during the First Hunger Games. She got beat to death, and they had to reap in a new one. That's why no kid ever tries to escape.'

Aden didn't want to go to the Games. The thought of being killed by the Peacekeepers who were escorting him though didn't sound like a great fate either. At least with the Games, there was at least somewhat of a chance of survival. A very small one, but it was still a chance. And as long as there was a chance, anything was possible.

"You can do this," he whispered to himself. "You can get out of this. You're a lot more clever than many of those people. Use that to your advantage."

Once he was inside the Justice Building, Aden was escorted down one hallway while Allura was led down another. Pity swept through him. It was a shame that she would have to die. As much as he didn't like the idea, she would have to. If it came down to it, he was willing to take it himself. There could only be one victor after all. It wasn't like the Gamemakers were ever going to make it so that two people could win or something.

A shiver ran down his spine. One thing at a time. For all he knew, Allura would be killed by somebody else. It was likely. As history showed, District Five didn't have a lot of victors. Though Javier Lopez, who had been the most recent Victor Five had, was pretty good. During his Games, Javier had been in the final two with a boy tribute from Two. The two of them had climbed up the same tree to escape jungle-cat mutts. Javier actually won his Games by knocking the boy out of the tree. Not an easy feat.

The Peacekeepers led him into a room. Stepping inside, Aden looked around. The room was pretty impressive. Well furnished, with deep carpets and soft-cushioned furniture. Definitely an improvement over his little shack that he had set up in one of the abandoned alleyways. He would have actually liked to live in a place like this, if the life wasn't also so restricting. In order to live in a place like this you would have to be snobby and be that kind of person who has their nose up in the air all the time. Even having everything wasn't worth that. He would definitely stick to his own devices. From then on, he swore to never use anything the Capitol had. Taking a seat on the floor near the couch, he waited for his visitors to come, if any would. While he had acquired a number of admirers in his days, he wondered how many would actually come and see him. Probably not a lot. Maybe one, two tops.

Sure enough, his reasoning came to be pretty accurate. Only one person came to see him-his best friend Joseph. He looked gravely hurt and disappointed. The moment he entered the room and the Peacekeepers closed the door behind him, the clicking resonating in the room as the door was locked, he walked up to Aden and threw his arms around him. The air left Aden's chest as Joseph squeezed him tightly.

"Don't kill me before I get to the Games..." Aden managed to grunt.

Realizing just how tightly he was hugging Aden, Joseph quickly released his hold. An apologetic look appeared on his face. A nervous laugh escaped him as he ran the back of his hand along the back of his head. "Uh...sorry?" he said, not quite sure if it was the right response or not.

Aden rolled his eyes and bit back the sarcastic remark that desperately wanted to come out of his mouth. Even though Joseph wasn't the most brightest tool in the shed, he was still a good guy. And he didn't want to leave the District, possibly never to return except in a casket, with only memories of sarcastic remarks he'd given his friend to carry him until his fate was decided. (And he was determined to make sure that his fate would mean survival.) So instead, he said, "Hey, don't act like I'm not going to come back. I will."

"How do you know?" asked Joseph. "There's going to be some deadly tributes in there. The Careers-"

"Won't be able to touch me," Aden cut him off. "Come on Joseph. I'm more clever than all of them put together. Watch. When the victor of these Games is standing there, it'll be me. And it won't be long after that I'll come back. I'll have my own house in the Victor's Village and everything! I'll be a symbol of those who have become rich even though they were poor. Like J. K. Rowling!"

"Who's J. K. Rowling?"

"Some woman from an ancient country called the United Kingdom. She wrote some book series about a wizard named Harry or something. Not quite sure. I only know about it because I found some books hidden in a brick wall in my alley. The pages were too worn out for me to really read though."

Joseph's eyes brightened in wonder. "Cool." He then reached into his pocket. "I know how much you love music, Aden," he said slowly. "With the way you play that guitar and everything. I thought about bringing your guitar with me, but I figured it'd probably be stupid. When are you ever going to have any time to play a guitar?"

"Or when am I ever going to be able to afford lugging it around with me everywhere?"

Joseph nodded. "Right. So, I tried thinking of something else to give you for your token. I remembered in music class that one year, you were playing the harmonica. And Miss Dylan caught you trying to steal it."

Aden chuckled. "Yeah, I remember that. She was the only one who ever caught me."

They both chuckled. "Anyway," Joseph continued. "I had a harmonica at home that I never used or played. And nobody else in my family played either. So I thought..." he pulled out a harmonica from his pocket. "You might like this."

Aden accepted the harmonica. Carefully, he looked it over. While he wasn't as good with the instrument as he was with guitar, he considered himself to be pretty decent at it. And everyone in his class loved it when he played a few District Five traditional songs such as "Ode to the Sun" and "Sway With the Wind" on it. It was simple in design and appearance. It looked like it would be able to carry on a decent tune though.

Aden felt something tickle his heart. Something started to gather in his eyes, and he realized that it was tears. Quickly he blinked them away. But he looked up gratefully from the harmonica and looked up at Joseph. "Thank you."

"Can you play 'Sway With The Wind'?" asked Joseph.

"I would, but I don't think we have enough time."

"The chorus then? I want to hear you play one last time."

Smiling, Aden placed the harmonica so it was only an inch away from his lips. "I think I can do that." Then he placed his lips on the harmonica and started to play. And while he did, Joseph sang along to it, his voice filling the room. Aden would give it to his friend, he may not have always been the smartest person out there, but he was a good singer. His voice was crisp and strong, his voice sounding like the wind that was being mentioned in the very song they were playing.

"O come now my darling  
Come and dance with me  
The wind will surely bring  
Fortunes we can't see  
Come now and breath the air  
Let it bring you grin  
Dance with it without care  
Yeah sway with the wind."

And just as they finished, the door opened and a Peacekeeper entered. "It's time to head to the train," he said.

Joseph quickly turned to Aden. "May the odds be in your favor," he said.

Aden nodded. "They will be," he said. He watched as his friend left the room. Then he allowed himself to be escorted out of the room by the Peacekeeper. The Peacekeeper was joined by a couple others, and they soon started making their way to the doors of the Justice Building. There they were met up by Allura Swan and the Peacekeepers that were escorting her.

When the doors opened, a car was waiting to take them to the train station, which was a few miles to the east of where the Justice Building was. Cameras flashed as Capitolites tried to get images of the two tributes. Aden felt like he was caught in some bizarre nightmare because he wasn't used to this much attention. Normally the last thing people wanted to do was take photos of him. Sure his image had sometimes been plastered on Wanted Signs placed throughout the District. Still, this was too uncomfortable for him. To think that soon he would be observed by cameras nonstop was almost a terrifying thought.

"It's okay," he told himself. "It's okay. Don't let it bother you. Everything will be fine. Don't worry."

The Peacekeepers opened the doors for Allura and Aden. Willingly they climbed inside, after a Peacekeeper climbed into the middle, serving as a guard in the back to make sure neither one of them tried to pull an escape move. Two others climbed into the front. The rest remained outside the station, joining a larger group of Peacekeepers who made sure that the Capitolites and the crowd of District Five citizens didn't get in the way of the car's path. Looking out the window, Aden could see all the faces staring at him. Faces of different colors, shapes, and sizes. Some that looked natural, others that looked like they had some serious work done to them. (Most of these were from Capitolites.) They seemed to be one massive wave as the car passed through the city area where most of the people in the District lived. The crowds started to fade though as they reached the wind farms outside the city. A glance out the window in the back though showed that the reporters and their camera crews weren't done filming. He could see cars following behind them, with cameras sticking out of the openings where windows were.

Finally, after a half hour drive, they reached the train station, where one of the Capitol trains was waiting. The car stopped in front of the station, and the Peacekeepers got out. At the same moment, the cars filled with Capitolites and camera crews came to a stop. Then the entourage came back with the flashing cameras and the multi-colored citizens trying to get in an interview. Aden decided to keep silent though. He didn't want to attract a lot of attention. He knew that if he was going to survive these Games, appearing as much as a non-threat as possible was essential.

After the cameras gobbled up their last images as they stood outside the train, Aden and Allura climbed in. No sooner had the doors closed that the train started rolling. The sudden movement caught them off guard at first and they had to balance themselves, but they eventually got used to it. Really, as Aden observed, the trains were moving so fast you could barely feel a thing.

As he explored the train, he couldn't help but be taken aback at how luxuriously furnished the whole place was. He had heard stories about how great the Capitolites had had it, but this went beyond even his own imagining. Platinum doorknobs and sterling silverware. Magnificently furnished furniture. And when he got a look at the Dining Car and saw all the different kinds of foods, stuff he recognized and others that he didn't...he was completely stunned. Cakes, pastries, meat that had been cooked so well that it came right off the bone as soon as you bit into it.

Allura, who had been watching him this whole time, decided to speak first. "I take it you don't see this kind of thing every day, do you?"

"And you have?" he asked her, figuring this reply would answer the question.

She shook her head. "Nope. Never. Wish I did though." She walked over to the table and picked up a brownie drizzled in chocolate sauce and had whipped topping on it that had been shaped like a flower. The cherries on top of the white cream added decoration. "It must be nice, not having to worry about food your whole life," she murmured. The way she said it seemed to be more to herself than to him. "Must be nice to live a life like this, without any worries or complaints unless it's something trivial like not having the best dessert at a party."

He nodded in agreement. But in his head, he was also thinking along the lines of: You don't even know the half of it.

And it was in that moment he said, "I don't want to be in an alliance with you."

She turned to him, the brownie still in her mouth. The way her eyebrows knitted together and rose, and the way the brownie was positioned in her mouth made her look quite comical. She took a bite of the brownie and rested it on the plate she had taken. Then she chewed for a second and then swallowed. "I'm sorry, did you just say you didn't want to be in an alliance with me?" she asked.

He nodded. "You'll only keep me down. I can already tell that you're not much. You have nothing really to offer. Besides, an ally will only turn on me when they see it fit anyway. I don't want to wake up with you stabbing me in the back."

The look she gave him made him shudder a little. Perhaps she couldn't do much, but if looks could kill, he probably would have been a goner. Still, he held firm in his decision. "I'm sorry," he said. "But there can only be one winner, after all."

"Good to see the two of you have that established," said a voice behind them. The two of them turned to see the past Victors of District Five enter the Dining Car. The voice had come from the only male Victor that District Five had had in the thirty years that there had been Hunger Games, Javier Lopez. There was an approving look on his expression. He turned to Farette Max, the only female Victor that District Five had. Her red hair was drawn up in a tight braid, keeping it from her forehead and blue eyes, revealing the freckles that sprinkled her facial features. In both of their eyes, you could definitely see cleverness and intellect, two of their major strengths." Aden knew they were going to be essential in helping him stay alive during the next few weeks.

"So, Farette, now that these two have the whole ally- being-a-dangerous-thing down, what do you think we should do?"

"I say we just go and watch the Reapings. See what we can gather about the competition," she said. "That will probably be the best."

He nodded. "Si, my bien," he said, slipping into yet another language that was pretty common in District Five-Spanish. "Great idea." Turning to Aden and Allura, he then said, "Come on then, let's go watch the Reapings."

******AN: I'll try and have the next update done soon. Hopefully it'll be here sometime in October. I can't make any promises though. Let's just say my life hasn't been very smooth lately. It hasn't been for over a year now. I won't go into details though. **


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